The Thorn and the Rose
by DinahD
Summary: Following the events of Terra Prime, Trip wages a battle with his own personal demons.
1. Chapter 1

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

CHAPTER 1: MALCOLM

Lieutenant Malcolm Reed could point to the exact moment Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker III disappeared. Although no one realized it at the time, in retrospect the event stood out like a beacon in the night.

Malcolm raised the speed of the treadmill to keep pace with his whirring thoughts. Luckily he had the gym to himself tonight so he didn't have to worry about being interrupted. He could be alone with the memories of the friend who had convinced him that, although being an introvert wasn't a sin, it wasn't a great deal of fun either. He chuckled softly as he recalled their close encounter with an automated repair station and their failed attempt to pick up alien babes on Risa, but the chuckle quickly became a sigh. What a waste.

There was no denying that Commander Tucker was a changed man. Professionally he was still the same – brilliant, dedicated, driven – but personally, that was a different story. In days past, when Trip Tucker entered a room the place lit up like a star gone nova. People were drawn to him because he radiated energy, compassion and a joyous fascination with the wonders of life. Sadly that vital man had vanished, replaced by a phantom that could slip into and out of a room without being noticed. Within the space of a few short months, he had become a hollow shell of a man, running desperately from something he couldn't see or understand, and _Enterprise_ was a colder, drabber place because of it.

Malcolm's legs pumped furiously; sweat beaded his brow. The one overriding thought in his mind was that he wanted his enthusiastic, effervescent friend back again. He knew that he would do just about anything to ease Trip's pain and help him find his way out of the darkness. He just didn't know how to accomplish that feat. Apparently no one else did, either.

Thinking back, Malcolm knew that some people might point to the death of the baby created by the terrorists running Terra Prime as the day the wheels came off Trip's cart, metaphorically speaking, but they'd be wrong. He knew the truth. He'd been there.

-------

Reed knew that the death of their baby had hit both Trip and T'Pol very hard. Not blessed with strong paternal instincts himself, Malcolm still couldn't fully comprehend how the two commanders had bonded so quickly with their child. Here was a being they hadn't conceived, hadn't even been aware of until a few days earlier, but she was theirs and their devotion to her was immediate and unshakeable. One look at Trip's face and there could be no doubt in anyone's mind that he loved his little girl from the first moment he set eyes on her.

Reed remembered the tense atmosphere in the shuttlepod as they left Mars. T'Pol had held the infant close, checking her biosigns periodically and relaying the information to Phlox who waited impatiently on _Enterprise_. Trip's eyes never left his child. He sat quietly, fingers kneading his pant legs, as though he had to fight the urge to reach out and enfold her in a protective embrace.

The child whimpered only once on the ride back. Leaning forward, Trip whispered softly, "Everything's gonna be all right, sweetheart. Daddy's here." Then, reaching out to stroke his daughter's head, he exchanged a worried look with T'Pol.

That was the last time Malcolm saw the whole family together.

Archer had insisted that Trip and T'Pol take some time off after the death of their child, and for once in his life Trip didn't put up a fight. Commander Kelby had recently been reassigned, so with Trip out of commission, it fell to Lieutenant Hess to manage the day to day business of running the engineering department.

On the day Trip returned to duty, Malcolm journeyed to engineering to discuss his plans for making some necessary upgrades to the phase cannons.

When he entered engineering, Trip was working with a young ensign to recalibrate the injectors. Instead of making his presence known, Reed decided to take a few moments to study his friend. He quietly positioned himself so that he could see the chief engineer's face, but remain out of his line of sight. A frown wrinkled Malcolm's brow as he planted his feet and folded his arms across his chest. Trip definitely looked thinner, and his face was rather pale and drawn. The past weeks had obviously not been easy for him. Reed was just about to speculate on his friend's mental well-being when Trip turned his way. As soon as he saw Malcolm, Trip's eyes lit up and a huge smile sliced across his face.

"Mornin', Lieutenant," Trip said cheerfully. "Just give me a moment." He turned back to the injectors and gave his full attention to the young engineer who was assisting him. First, he gestured to the right and then to the left with the small flashlight he held in his hand. When he was finished, he clapped the ensign on the back and headed toward Reed.

"You aren't here to give me trouble on my first day back are ya, Malcolm?" he asked, grinning widely.

"As a matter of fact I am," Reed said, finding it impossible not to smile in return. "You've been shamelessly ignoring my pleas to upgrade the phase cannons for months now. I intend to remedy that situation, even if it means using a well-aimed phase pistol to ensure your complete and total attention."

"That kind of persuasion's hard to refuse, Lieutenant," Trip said, chuckling softly. "Any man willing to assault his superior officer to get a few minutes of his time deserves to be heard." With that, much to Malcolm's surprise, Trip threw his arm around Reed's shoulders and headed him toward the chief engineer's office.

As usual, they battled cheerfully over the upgrades until a workable plan began to emerge. Tucker promised to run some simulations later in the day and pass along the results as soon as possible.

Once Reed knew that his phase cannons would be properly cared for, his thoughts turned to the basic necessities of life. "I'm hungry. How about a late lunch?"

Trip grinned. "Sounds great, Malcolm." He started to get up from his chair when a padd on the far side of his desk caught his eye. "Damn," he muttered, reaching for the padd. "Just give me a minute to put the finishing touches on this duty roster," he called to Reed, who was halfway out the door, "and I'll be right with ya."

Malcolm waved a hand in recognition and headed out into engineering. While he waited Reed wandered about checking readouts, looking at schematics displayed on monitors, and peering over the shoulders of nervous crewmen as they completed their diagnostics. He was just giving Ensign Kelly a quick nod when he heard Tucker call for Hess.

"Here, sir," Hess hollered from atop the warp engine. As she scrambled down, Malcolm decided to stroll over and see what was going on.

"Anna," Trip said, "I know you've been busy, but it's kinda tough to make out a duty roster if I don't know who's available."

Hess looked slightly confused. "I'm afraid I don't understand, sir. All the information is up-to-date, just like always."

Trip jabbed a finger at the padd he clutched in his left hand. "I can't find Ensign Masaro's name on here anywhere. He's not on the available for duty list. He's not posted for sick leave. What…," Trip stopped abruptly, a look of confusion on his face. His head swiveled back and forth between Reed and Hess. "What's the matter?"

As a stunned look passed between the two lieutenants, Malcolm slowly raised a hand and scrubbed it nervously across his eyes. _No, no, no_, he thought in consternation. _This shouldn't be happening_.

"Lieutenant Reed," he heard Hess whisper beseechingly.

When he lowered his hand, Malcolm saw that Hess was staring at him, a sick expression on her face. She clearly wanted to be somewhere else.

Somehow in the hubbub surrounding the conference and the memorial service for the baby, apparently nobody had bothered to tell Trip about Ensign Masaro, Judas in Starfleet blue. _Bloody hell_! Malcolm swore to himself. Guess whom fate had once again selected to be the bearer of bad tidings.

"Is someone gonna tell me what's going on?" Trip demanded. "Where's Masaro? Is he in the brig? Did he get himself transferred to another ship? Is he…"

"He's dead, Trip," Reed interjected quietly. "He died while you and T'Pol were down on Mars."

"Dead?" Trip stood with his arms crossed over his chest, looking incredulously from Hess to Reed. "How come nobody bothered to tell me? What happened?"

Reed took a moment to compose himself then continued, "Ensign Masaro committed suicide."

Trip tilted his head as though he was trying to figure out some deep philosophical puzzle. "Why would he do that?" he queried. "Johnny was a nice kid. He showed a lot of potential as an engineer. We had a talk about his future a couple of months ago. He sure didn't seem suicidal to me."

Malcolm took a deep breath, held it and exhaled. Why was life never simple? "Ensign Masaro was the traitor."

Reed could tell by the blank look on Trip's face that he was still in the dark.

"Masaro was the crewman who gave your DNA and T'Pol's to Terra Prime."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Reed saw the color drain from Trip's face. The engineer's grip loosened, and the padd he was holding slipped from his fingers. Instinctively, Hess reached out to steady him, but Tucker didn't waver. He just stood riveted to the spot, staring blindly ahead.

Reed had seen the same dazed expression only once before when his childhood friend, Trevor Fitzgibbons, had been struck squarely between the eyes by a soccer ball. Trevor had keeled over and dropped like a rock. Deep down Malcolm almost wished that Trip, too, could find solace in oblivion.

"It's all right, Lieutenant," Reed said softly to Hess. "I'll take care of him."

Not needing a second invitation Hess muttered, "I'm sorry, sir," then turned and bolted.

Finally, Reed draped his left arm across the commander's shoulders. The two friends stood quietly side by side as Malcolm squeezed and rubbed Trip's shoulder in a rather awkward attempt at consolation.

Soon Malcolm noticed the subtle and not so subtle stares from many of the engineering staff. He realized that he needed to find someplace private where his friend could begin to recover. "Come on, Trip," he whispered. When he got no response he tried again. "Come on, Trip, let's go get something to eat."

Slowly Tucker's head swiveled toward Malcolm, but his eyes still seemed unfocused.

"You remember, Trip…lunch…the mess hall. It will do you good to get something to eat."

Food had always been Tucker's friend, but that seemed no longer to be the case. Trip shook his head and then numbly pulled away from Malcolm. "You…" He stopped and shakily ran his tongue over his lips. "You'd better go on without me, Malcolm. I'm not very hungry."

Reed was becoming more concerned by the minute. Trip was still deathly pale, and he had to clutch his hands together to keep them from trembling. "Maybe we should call Doctor Phlox," Malcolm suggested quietly.

"No, I'm fine," Tucker stated reassuringly. "The news about Johnny…Ensign Masaro just took me by surprise." He tried to stand a little straighter, but Malcolm wasn't fooled. Finally, Trip looked away. "I thought I knew him. It never occurred to me that he would be capable of something like that. He was…" Clearing his throat, Trip fought for control. "I never questioned his loyalty to _Enterprise_ or to me. I guess I was wrong." His words ended in a whisper.

"Trip…" Reed knew that his friend needed help, but Tucker remained adamant.

"I'm fine, Malcolm. Really." Trip tried to smile, but it was a half-hearted effort at best. "You go on and get something to eat. I'll catch up with you later. I have to get back to work. Okay?"

"All right, Trip. But try to eat something."

What else could he say? Every ounce of common sense told Reed to send for Phlox, but perhaps one breach of faith was all Trip could handle in a single day. As he watched his friend slowly walk away, Malcolm felt completely helpless. He vowed to try to talk to Trip later in the day, but from that point on nothing seemed to work. Every effort at support and understanding failed miserably.

-------

Malcolm stopped the treadmill and grabbed a towel. He wiped the sweat from his face and then tossed the towel toward a nearby hamper. He smirked as the towel hit the rim and dropped into the container. "Yes," he muttered smugly beneath his breath. He was, and always would be, a very competitive man.

Invigorated physically, yet still strangely restless and uneasy in spirit, Reed climbed off the treadmill. He knew he had to get some sleep, but he just wasn't ready to settle down. Maybe a quick trip to the mess hall for a cup of hot tea and some biscuits would help him to relax.

As he walked down the corridor, Malcolm thought about his friend and the changes that day almost two months ago had wrought. From the moment Trip learned about Masaro, everything changed: his temperament, his mode of living, and his relationships with other members of the crew. In the course of daily events, Malcolm knew that people still called his friend Trip, and he still answered to Trip. But he really wasn't Trip. Not anymore.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

CHAPTER 2: ARCHER

Jonathan Archer sat in the captain's mess staring glumly at the empty table before him and thought longingly of happy meals from times past. He hated to eat alone, but after a month of rejections and no-shows, he'd given up issuing invitations to meals. Trip and T'Pol simply didn't come. They either ate in their quarters or in the mess hall, if they ate at all.

He missed the arguments, the teasing, and the feigned indignation when one made a telling point against the other. He missed the stimulating conversations and the comfortable atmosphere. But most of all, he missed the companionship of his two best friends. Occasionally he'd invited other officers to join him – Malcolm, Hoshi, Travis – but it just wasn't the same.

The captain leaned back as a steward placed a bowl of goulash in front of him. The bowl was soon followed by a plate of rolls and a glass of iced tea. His groan was audible. Goulash was definitely not his favorite food. He knew that it was almost 2200, well past his usual dinner hour. Maybe this was Chef's way of showing his displeasure. Archer picked up his spoon and slowly stirred it through the thick Hungarian stew. _Trip likes goulash_, he thought gloomily. Dropping his spoon into the bowl, he called for the steward.

"Is something wrong, Captain?"

"I guess I'm just not in the mood for this tonight," Archer said tiredly. "Do you think Chef could rustle me up a ham on rye?"

"Right away, Captain," the steward said smartly as he cleared the table and headed back to the kitchen.

Archer shifted nervously in his chair. He wasn't a finicky eater, but goulash only reminded him of another missed meal two months ago, and the traumatic events that followed soon thereafter. Those were memories Jon would have preferred to forget, but with the smell of goulash still lingering in the air, that wasn't going to be possible.

- - - - - - - - - -

After the unpleasant scene in engineering when Trip had learned about Masaro's treachery, Lieutenant Reed had come to Archer to make him aware of the mix-up. Mentally kicking himself for the oversight, Jon had immediately sent for T'Pol.

Aware of Tucker's traumatized reaction, the captain tried to break the news to his first officer as gently as possible. Unfortunately, the stoical expression on T'Pol's face remained unchanged, giving him no indication of how she truly felt.

"Thank you for telling me, Captain. It is…" For a split second her voice wavered. "…Regrettable that Ensign Masaro felt that it was necessary to betray our trust. I had little contact with him, but when we did have an occasion to meet, he was always respectful."

"I'm sure it was nothing you said or did," Archer stated reassuringly. "Ensign Masaro seemed genuinely remorseful for what he had done. Paxton and his henchmen at Terra Prime must have sold him a bill of goods." When T'Pol looked slightly perplexed he amended, "They lied to him about their plans for your DNA. He never meant to hurt you, and I know he would never dream of hurting Trip. He idolized him."

Archer began to pace as he continued. "I read Trip's action reports from the battle with the Xindi at Azati Prime. During the fighting, Ensign Masaro was badly wounded. When Trip ordered everybody out of engineering, he noticed Masaro trying desperately to stop the flow of blood from a severed artery in his left arm. Trip managed to get pressure on the wound and haul him to sickbay before he bled to death. Even with all of the repairs, Trip still managed to squeeze a few extra minutes out of each day to visit him and the other injured crewmen from engineering. None of them is likely to forget that. It's just one of the things that makes Trip such a fine officer."

The captain stopped pacing and looked directly at his first officer. "T'Pol, I don't honestly think it had anything to do with you. Masaro left a note in his quarters. He hated the Xindi. Several of his close friends died in the attack. He hated the idea that once we'd stopped the weapon we were simply going to kiss and make up."

Once again T'Pol cocked an elegant eyebrow, but this time Archer didn't feel the need to offer an explanation.

"Paxton told him that the DNA would only be used to demonstrate how different our two species are. You know, emphasize the alien traits of Vulcans – red blood vs. green blood, pointed ears, that sort of thing."

As T'Pol stood quietly with her hands clasped behind her back, Archer walked over to his desk and retrieved a padd. "I wanted to wait until you had a chance to recover before I gave this to you," he said as he extended the padd toward her. "Ensign Masaro left a message for you."

T'Pol hesitated for a few moments and then reached out and took the padd. She tapped it against the palm of her left hand several times before apparently becoming aware of this nervous gesture. Swiftly, the padd and both hands disappeared behind her back. Raising her chin, she said, "Thank you, Captain. If that is all, I would like to return to my duties."

"Dinner tonight in the captain's mess? You and Trip? 1900 hours?"

T'Pol considered the request then replied, "Thank you for the invitation. I will pass along your request to Commander Tucker."

Archer smiled and nodded. "Dismissed."

As T'Pol returned to the bridge, Archer looked at a second padd on his desk and breathed a heavy sigh. He'd evidently made a serious error when he failed to discuss the Masaro situation with Trip right away.

The captain plopped down in his chair and put his head in his hands. This whole Terra Prime business had been one nightmare after another. Now he had to deliver a message from the grave to a man who'd already been subjected to more than enough misery.

Archer straightened, grabbed the padd with the message for Trip and rose from his chair. There was no point in putting it off. He would talk to Trip after dinner. He just hoped that the meeting with his chief engineer went half as well as the one with his first officer.

As he turned to go his eyes fell on another padd which he'd angrily tossed onto his desk earlier in the day. Though physically identical to all the others, this one was different; it contained nothing but trouble. He paused then angrily snatched up the offensive padd and slapped it next to the one he was already holding in his hand. He needed to think. He had to decide what to do with this information before it blew up in his face.

At the request of Lieutenant Valentiny, Hungarian goulash was on the menu for dinner that evening. Unfortunately, Trip and T'Pol did not appear. After waiting for almost twenty minutes, Archer considered paging them, but finally decided against it. They had a right to their privacy, especially after receiving such unpleasant news about a fellow crewman. He would just have to resign himself to eating alone.

Thirty minutes later, he was still disinterestedly pushing his food around in his bowl. Deciding that this was getting him nowhere, he hit the comm button. "Archer to Ensign Halvorson."

"Halvorson here, sir."

"Is Commander Tucker in his quarters?"

"Commander Tucker is in engineering, sir. Do you want me to contact him?"

"No," Archer said slowly. "Thanks, but I think I'll just head down that way myself. Archer out."

Before going to engineering, Jon made a quick stop at his quarters to retrieve the padd with the message from Masaro. As he picked it up, he pondered the misery that had brought about its creation – a sad coda to a tragic situation. Next, he headed over toward a shelf where a bottle of ice blue liquid stood waiting. He deliberated for only a moment before grabbing the bottle. There was nothing wrong with trying to make this as painless as possible.

When Archer entered engineering, he cast his eyes around looking for a dark blond head. Moments later, a voice called from overhead, "He's in his office, sir." The captain looked up and saw Ensign Kelly smiling down at him.

"Thanks," he replied, returning her smile. "Carry on, Ensign."

He walked over to the chief engineer's small office and stopped in the open doorway. Tucker sat slumped in his chair staring blankly at the monitor in front of him. He didn't move as the captain entered the room. _Maybe this wasn't such a good idea_, Jon thought. _Maybe Trip needs more time to deal with everything that has been happening to him_. He considered leaving but decided against it. It had to be done – best to just get it over with.

"The sun's over the yardarm," Jon called from the doorway. "I thought we could both use a drink." He walked into the room and set the bottle on Trip's desk. Leaning over, he opened the bottom drawer where Trip kept an odd assortment of eating utensils, hand tools, and small electrical and mechanical components. Archer quickly removed two relatively clean glasses and sat down on the only other chair in the room.

Trip slowly turned toward the captain, but there was no big smile or effusive greeting. "You've been spendin' too much time with Malcolm," Tucker replied with some effort. "Before you know it you'll be askin' me to hoist the sails and tack into the wind." Trip straightened in his chair, apparently trying to look a little more like a senior officer.

Archer chuckled as he poured some of the clear blue liquid into the two glasses. He held one up to the light before handing it to Trip. "Shran gave me a parting gift before he left the last time. This seemed like as good a time as any to break out the bottle." Jon raised his glass in a toast: "To old friends and free booze. Bottoms up."

Tucker clinked his glass with the captain's and tossed his drink back in a single large gulp. He grimaced slightly as the Andorian ale burned its way down his throat.

"Smooth," Archer observed huskily as he generously refilled both glasses.

"This stuff's about as smooth as crushed glass," Trip wheezed, though he didn't waste any time emptying his glass for the second time.

"It must be an acquired taste," Archer replied. "Maybe we just need to keep trying." He refilled the glasses again and then fixed his gaze on the commander. When he looked at Trip's pale face and the dark smudges beneath his eyes, Jon couldn't help but wonder if a little alien whoopee juice was actually going to be enough to soften the blow?

"I missed you at dinner tonight," Archer said, trying to keep the concern out of his voice.

"Dinner. Right." Tucker fidgeted with his glass for a moment and then emptied it. The engineer looked like he wanted to get up and leave, but just couldn't think of a polite way to do it. "I'm sorry, Cap'n, but I had a lot of work to get done."

"You've got to eat, Trip."

"Malcolm said the same thing," Tucker said testily. "People are always tryin' to force food down my throat."

Jon was a little surprised by Trip's reaction, but chose to remain silent.

Sighing, Trip turned his glass upside down and placed it on the desk. "I appreciate the thought, Cap'n, but I don't need a pair of over-eager nursemaids. I can take care of myself." Tucker seemed to be unaware that the last few words came out a bit slurred.

Archer gazed intently at his chief engineer.

"Are you gonna tell me what this visit is really about?" Trip asked nervously. "I know you aren't down here because I missed Chef's goulash and apple strudel." When the word "strudel" seemed to get stuck in Trip's mouth, it was pretty clear that the three glasses of Andorian ale were beginning to have an effect. Apparently tiring of Archer's delaying tactics, Trip finally blurted out, "Just tell me what ya want!"

For a moment Archer sat unmoving, then he slowly took the padd out of his pocket and pushed it over to Trip.

Tucker swallowed hard and stared at the padd. Finally, he picked it up with a shaky hand and brought up the message. When he realized what it was he slammed his eyes shut.

"Trip?" Jon murmured in a worried tone of voice.

Tucker took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Archer could practically see Trip's resolve kick in. No matter what it cost him, he intended to do this.

_Just read the words, Trip, and get it over with_, Archer thought anxiously. _Then we can put all of this behind us_.

The message wasn't long, only about four paragraphs, but it was undoubtedly intensely emotional. At first Trip appeared to be handling things pretty well, but it wasn't long before things began to fall apart.

Tucker squeezed his eyes shut again and shook his head. "No," he groaned softly.

"It will be okay, Trip," Jon said soothingly. "We can…"

Before Archer could finish, Trip's eyes popped open and he stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair in the process. His face had lost all color, and he couldn't seem to prevent his body from trembling. Still clutching the padd in his left hand, Trip started to move numbly toward the door, but Archer blocked his way.

"You can't go out there like this," Archer said tightly. "Please sit down and try to relax."

At first he thought Tucker might try to push past him, but the engineer only turned and walked unsteadily to the far wall. Trip took a look at the padd in his hand one more time. Then he raised his right fist and brought it down hard against the wall.

Archer wanted to offer some comfort, but what could he say that wasn't a platitude? What could he do to help a man who was clearly in unspeakable pain?

"He can't hurt you anymore, Trip," Jon finally said with intensity. In a few quick strides he was across the room. As he reached for Trip he said, "It's over."

Trip pushed Jon's hand away and shuddered, "It's not over," he whispered breathlessly. "It will never…be over." Raising a hand to his chest, Trip took in several gasping breaths, but he couldn't seem to suck in enough air.

Jon pried the padd from Trip's hand and tossed it onto the floor behind him. Then he grabbed Tucker's shoulders and shook him, trying to get his attention. "Settle down, Trip," he pleaded. "You're hyperventilating." The engineer tried to free himself from Archer's grasp, but Jon held firm. The need to run was writ plainly in the engineer's eyes. "Calm down," Archer exclaimed as his eyes darted around the room, desperately searching for a bag or some other receptacle to help regulate his friend's breathing. But before Jon could take action, Tucker's knees buckled and he slumped forward.

"Damn," Jon mumbled as he lowered Trip's body to the floor. Pulling his communicator from his pocket, he called for help. "Archer to sickbay."

"Phlox here, Captain." The doctor's reply was prompt as always.

"Commander Tucker could use your assistance in engineering."

"I'm on my way. Phlox out."

Jon rolled his friend onto his back and bent over him. "Come on, Trip," he murmured entreatingly as he gently slapped the commander's cheek. Fortunately, it wasn't long before he heard Phlox enter the room.

The doctor knelt beside him and began to run his scanner over Trip. He checked the results and looked at Archer. "Mr. Tucker is not in any danger, Captain. May I ask what happened?"

"Trip received some bad news," Archer said, his eyes moving unconsciously toward the offending padd, which lay on the floor near the desk. "He began to hyperventilate and…well, he just collapsed." He looked nervously at the still body of his friend and then over to the doctor.

Phlox glanced at the bottle of blue liquor and the two empty glasses. "Given my familiarity with Commander Tucker's recent eating habits, I'm going to guess that he hasn't had anything to eat this evening. Would that be correct?"

Archer said nothing but dropped his eyes guiltily.

"Andorian ale on an empty stomach is a very bad idea, Captain," Phlox scolded. "It is Andorian ale, isn't it?"

Archer nodded. "You're right, Phlox," he said contritely. "I thought the situation required something to help cushion the blow. Obviously, I was wrong. It won't happen again."

Phlox reached into a pocket and removed a small metal box. Taking an ampule from the box, he said, "Sometimes the old cures are the best. Don't you think so, Captain?" He efficiently broke the ampule and waved it under Tucker's nose.

Trip's reaction was almost instantaneous. He twisted his head away and started to cough.

"Take it easy, Trip," Archer said as the engineer's eyes opened.

Trip squinted as his eyes wandered aimlessly around the room. Finally, his gaze fell on Phlox. "Hey, Doc," he whispered bewilderedly, scrubbing a shaky hand over his face. "How come I'm on the floor?"

"You passed out, Commander." Phlox said. "How do you feel?"

"Okay, I guess," Tucker mumbled. "A little dizzy."

"Why don't we get you up off the floor, hmm," the doctor said and nodded to the captain. The two men hoisted Trip up and pulled him over to his chair. Apparently Trip's world was still spinning because he plopped an elbow on his desk, groaned and rested his head on his hand.

Without thinking, Archer allowed his eyes to wander to the padd on the floor near their feet. Trip followed his gaze. At first things didn't seem to register, then in an instant Archer could see all the pain come rushing back. Trip, recognizing the message from the dead engineer, sucked in his breath and pulled back sharply.

"Now, now," the doctor soothed, "your heart is racing, Commander. You must try and relax. I'm going to give you a mild sedative to help you sleep. I would give you more, but I'm somewhat limited by the amount alcohol you've consumed." Phlox pressed the hypospray to Trip's neck. Archer watched as the doctor quietly leaned over, picked up the padd and slid it into his pocket.

"Captain, will you please see that Mr. Tucker gets to his quarters? He'll probably drift off rather quickly so don't dawdle."

Archer walked over and stared down at Trip. "Thank you, Doctor," he said. "We'll manage."

Grabbing the engineer under the arms, Jon hoisted him to his feet. "Come on, Trip," Archer said as he pulled Trip's right arm over his shoulder and then grabbed his friend firmly about the waist.

"Good night, Captain, Commander," Phlox said in the cheerful voice that all crewmen had come to associate with the doctor's attempts to brow beat them into being a good little boys and girls. "And, Mr. Tucker, be sure to eat a nourishing breakfast in the morning."

Trip nodded groggily, probably more to keep the doctor happy than with any real intention of following his orders.

Phlox wasn't fooled for a moment. After four years with the commander, the doctor was on to all his little tricks. "I'll just drop by and give Chef some menus for the next few days. Special meals for a special patient," Phlox said with a happy lilt in his voice.

"I'm not your patient," Trip managed to snarl as Archer pulled him through the office door. "I'm fine. I just want ya to leave me alone!"

As Archer wrestled Trip toward the door out of engineering, he became aware of a quiet but intensely interested group of young engineers watching their every move. Engineers might run a tight ship, but they were also known to have loose lips. This was going to be all over the ship before he could get Trip back to his quarters. Oh well, it couldn't be helped.

It wasn't long before Archer decided that taking Trip back to his own quarters was a bad idea. The engineer was fading fast. After the day's trauma, it might be best if he didn't wake up alone. Archer considered taking him to sickbay, but decided that Trip wouldn't be too happy if he woke up with Phlox staring down at him again.

Suddenly, Trip groaned softly and went limp. Archer stumbled slightly as his friend became dead weight. Sidestepping, he shoved Trip against the wall, then bent over and hoisted his friend onto his shoulders. Even though Trip had lost some weight, he was still a handful. Jon adjusted Trip's position slightly, silently giving thanks that he didn't have too far to go.

When they reached his quarters, it took Archer only a couple of moments to open his door. Once inside, he took a few more steps and deposited Trip in a heap on the left side of the bed.

Porthos bounded over, slightly confused, but still elated to see his master.

"Hey buddy," Archer said as he reached down to scratch the beagle's ears. "We're going to have a roommate tonight. How about helping me get Trip ready for bed?"

Jon started to pull off Trip's shoes, but it didn't take long for him to realize that he, too, was beginning to feel the effects of Shran's potent gift.

Undressing a man who is dead to the world isn't easy when you're sober; it's virtually impossible when you're drunk. After a few moments of pulling and tugging, Jon decided to give up on Trip and just concentrate on getting himself undressed. He managed to divest himself of his shoes and his jumpsuit before deciding that that was enough. As Porthos whimpered gently, Archer stumbled to the right side of the bed and flopped down next to Trip. He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

- - - - - - - - - -

Jon wasn't exactly sure what woke him in the early hours of the morning. Maybe he heard a noise, or it could have been a disturbing dream. Whatever it was, he was no longer blissfully asleep. The first thing he noticed when he opened his eyes was that the lights were still on. _I must have been drunker than I thought,_ he mused. His right arm flopped over and connected with a small furry body. Taking that as an invitation, Porthos moved over and started to lick his face. Slowly it all came back to him. Someone was missing. Trip should be there.

The captain sat up and rubbed his eyes. He looked around and saw Trip standing over in the far corner of the room. His back was to Archer, but it was easy to see that something wasn't right. Jon started to call to his friend when an unpleasant thought hit him like a bolt of lightning. He'd brought that third padd from his ready room and dumped it unceremoniously in the general neighborhood of where Trip was now standing.

"Trip?" he called out, but received no response. Now fully awake, Archer shot out of bed. Hurrying across the room, he tried to put a hand on the engineer's shoulder, but Trip angrily pulled away.

"When were you going to tell me about this?" Trip managed to choke out. His breathing was ragged as he struggled to control his anger. "Or didn't you think I needed to know."

Archer could see that Trip had the padd clutched in his hands. "I just got the report from Starfleet Intelligence this morning," he answered softly. "I thought I'd wait until you calmed down a little before I showed it to you. I would have told you eventually."

Sniffing, Tucker rubbed one hand across his eyes. Then he suddenly spun around and glared belligerently at Archer.

Jon tried to reach out to his friend one more time, but Trip dodged to his left and hurled the padd with all his might against the far wall. With a frightened yelp Porthos jumped from the bed and scurried away.

Tucker spun back to face the captain with fire in his eyes. "You didn't think it was important for me to know that my parents were members of Terra Prime!"

Archer stood completely still. "Trip, I don't know what to say."

Tucker thrust his face closer to the captain. "You didn't think it was important to tell me that my parents helped to kill their own grandchild!" he shouted, all sense of control now completely abandoned. "I thought you were my friend, you lousy bastard!"

"I am your friend, Trip." Archer tried to keep his voice calm and reassuring. "I'm sure your parents didn't know about the baby. You know they wouldn't do something like that."

"I don't know anything anymore! I don't know them, and I sure as hell don't know you!" Red-faced, Trip balled both hands into fists. "I thought I could trust you, believe in you, but I was wrong. I'm not gonna let you lie to me anymore. So just stay away!"

Before Archer could draw a deep breath and reply, Trip angrily did an about-face and bolted from the room.

Thoroughly shaken, Archer stumbled over to the bed and sat down. Apparently aware that something was seriously wrong, Porthos jumped up on the bed and cuddled next to him. Numbly, Archer stroked the beagle's soft fur. "What am I going to do now, boy?" he whispered. "How am I going to make this right?"

- - - - - - - - - -

Chewing slowly on his sandwich, Archer suddenly realized that he wasn't sure what he was eating. It could be ham or tuna or peanut butter and jelly for all he knew. He pried the bread apart and looked inside. It was ham. No longer hungry, he tossed the remainder of the sandwich onto the plate.

The hurt and rage that Trip had felt that night two months ago was still so raw and real that it had the power to push everything else completely out of Jon's mind. He knew Trip was upset and hadn't really meant the things he'd said, but they stung nonetheless.

Since then, Archer's relationship with his chief engineer had been all business. They could work together, but the camaraderie was gone. The anger and hurt feelings from that night were still locked away deep inside both of them.

_If I had it to do all over again_… Jon leaned back and gave that question some thought. _If I had told Trip about his parents or about Masaro right away, would it have made any difference_? He shook his head in frustration. He could speculate all he wanted, but unless Daniels suddenly showed up and transported him back into the past he would never know for sure.

Jon fixed his eyes on the window and watched as the stars silently streaked past. It was comforting to know that there was order to the universe. Planets and moons moved predictably in their orbits. Suns rose and set on schedule. Stars regularly cast their brilliance to untold worlds beyond.

But there was very little certainty or order in the lives of men. Of course death was certain. Pain and loss were certain. Fortunately, there was also enough joy and achievement to make life bearable and give it some meaning. If he had to do it all over again, could he have done anything to make things easier for Trip?

Feeling restless, Jon rose and walked over to the window. He knew how to be a captain. He'd learned that lesson the hard way in the Expanse, and in his dealings with the Vulcans, the Andorians and any number of other alien species. But he wasn't so sure he knew how to be a friend anymore.

He knew he wanted Trip's friendship. He needed him. He had to have someone he could talk to, someone he could relax with. No one else could tell a stupid little joke and instantly lift everyone's spirits. No one else would listen intently for as long as he was needed, yet never be judgmental. And where was he going to find another person who would enthusiastically watch hours of water polo, even though he'd rather be doing just about anything else?

But Trip was a subordinate. When he spoke to his chief engineer, where did Captain Archer end and Jonathan Archer begin? If he took a chance and tried to rebuild their relationship, would the affection still be there even after…

"Is it all right if I clear the table, Captain?"

Jon, startled out of his contemplation, turned to look in the direction of the voice and saw his steward standing just inside the door. "I'm sorry, what…"

"The table, sir," the young man said hesitantly, "I'd like to clear the table with your permission." When the captain continued to look at him uncomprehendingly, he murmured, "Of course I could come back later if you'd prefer."

Archer focused then held up a hand to stay him. "Go ahead and clear the table. I'm finished. I guess I'm just a little preoccupied today." With that he smiled. The smile was instantly returned by the relieved young man who went to work collecting the dishes and the glassware.

But as quickly as it had come, the smile vanished and a shadow passed over the captain's features. "Please ask Chef to take goulash off the menu," Archer said softly. The steward looked up, surprise clearly evident on his face. "I just …" Archer stopped and cleared his throat. "I just prefer something else, anything else. Please tell him."

The steward didn't take time to try and figure out the request. He nodded once and obediently replied, "Right away, sir," before turning and exiting the room.

"Damn," Archer muttered as he turned back to commune with the stars. Too much talk, not enough action. Somehow he had to find a way to help Trip, to win back the friendship he valued so much. He shifted restlessly as something in the back of his mind warned that time was running short. If he didn't act and act soon, Trip and all he meant to him would be gone forever. That was something Jon could not bear.

TBC --


	3. Chapter 3

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

CHAPTER 3: PHLOX

Doctor Phlox shook his head and sighed. It was the wee hours of the morning, and the mess hall was virtually deserted. From his seat in the far corner he could see all the tables, all the chairs, and two solemn, insular people.

Phlox glanced to his left in time to see Commander Tucker stand, check the information on the padd in his hand, then head for the door. He left behind an untouched bowl of soup and an empty coffee mug. The doctor noted that the commander, though still relatively young, moved like a much older man. He no longer had that youthful spring in his step which seemed to epitomize his optimistic attitude toward life.

Phlox briefly considered following the young man, but finally decided against it. He might be able to browbeat the engineer into going to sickbay for a check up, but what would he gain? In his present state of mind, Tucker would resent being badgered about his health. He might even go out of his way to avoid the Denobulan, thereby putting himself at even greater risk if he really did need medical attention. No, Phlox thought regretfully, he'd just have to bide his time. One way or the other Commander Tucker was going to need him…and soon.

Phlox was momentarily diverted by the swish of the door as it opened. Lieutenant Reed stood sideways in the doorway casting a worried glance down the corridor.

_It's nice to know that I'm not the only one who's concerned about Mr. Tucker_, Phlox thought, his spirits somewhat revived.

When Reed entered the mess hall, he seemed surprised to see Phlox, but he recovered quickly, nodding his head in recognition. Then he caught sight of Commander T'Pol. There must have been a residual air of tension in the room because the armory officer didn't seem inclined to stop and chat. He walked to the beverage dispenser, ordered a cup of tea, grabbed the first plate of cookies he saw and bolted for the door, nodding once again to the doctor as he left.

Phlox gazed to the right taking in the rigid form of Commander T'Pol. She sat with her back to the room, seemingly oblivious to everything around her. Yes, Phlox decided, she could be intimidating and unapproachable, yet she was, in fact, quite a lovely person. It was such a pity that she never allowed other people to get close enough to really get to know her. If anyone had been given a peak behind that Vulcan mask, it was Commander Tucker. Now even he seemed to be shut out.

She appeared to be intently perusing the padd she held in her right hand, but the doctor knew that she was fully aware of everything that was going on around her. She undoubtedly knew that he was studying her, and that he was concerned for her welfare.

"Would you care to join me, Doctor?" T'Pol said without looking up.

"Thank you, Commander," Phlox replied regretfully, "but I'm afraid it's feeding time for the nocturnal portion of my menagerie." He offered her a half-hearted smile. "Perhaps another time."

T'Pol swiveled in her chair to look at him. "I understand your concern for me, Doctor, but I assure you it is not necessary."

Phlox studied her with a critical eye. She appeared to be perfectly healthy, but he knew that in the Expanse her ability to control her emotions had been permanently compromised. "You have been through a very traumatic event. I count you as a friend, T'Pol. It is only natural for me to be concerned. If I can…"

"There is nothing more you can do, Doctor," she said in a cold, unyielding tone. "The past can not be changed and regret is useless." With that she turned away from him and once again began to study the information on her padd. "Good night, Doctor."

Phlox rose slowly from his chair. He studied the young Vulcan then shook his head in resignation. He sincerely hoped that she would be able to live by those words. The past could not be changed and regret truly was a useless emotion. He wished her well, but in the back of his mind, he harbored some doubts.

"Good night, Commander," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "Please remember that my door is always open if you want to talk." There was no response, but then he hadn't expected one.

As he walked back to sickbay Phlox recalled the early days in the Expanse when he had made the decision to persuade the very Vulcan sub-commander to assist the very human commander with his insomnia. He knew that what he was asking T'Pol to do was an intimate procedure, but it was necessary and somehow it just seemed right.

Here were two people who by their very natures were almost mirror images. Most people saw Tucker as an emotional, gregarious man full of down-home charm, when he was, in fact, an intensely private person who was capable of great self-control and introspection. On the other hand, T'Pol's emotionless, unyielding exterior hid an intensely passionate and volatile nature. Placed together the two of them seemed to complement each other perfectly.

But then they were confronted with the tragic events instigated by the terrorist organization, Terra Prime. The discovery of the baby's existence had been shocking, but equally surprising was the almost instantaneous bond the infant seemed to initiate with both of her parents.

The crew of _Enterprise_ and diplomats from a number of alien worlds had embraced this child. Her life, though all too short, helped to create an atmosphere where bitter enemies could set aside their hatred and distrust long enough to finally begin to explore ways of achieving peace.

Unfortunately, it was a shattering experience for those closest to her.

As Phlox entered sickbay the tragic events of three months earlier played out again in his mind.

- - - - - - - - - -

In the moments after Elizabeth lost her fight for life, both parents stood quietly side by side trying to take in the fact that the beautiful gift that had so suddenly been thrust into their care had now been brutally and irrevocably taken from them. Captain Archer offered the grieving couple his heart-felt sympathy and then left them to mourn in private.

After a few moments Commander Tucker stirred. Slipping his wounded arm from the sling, he ran one hand gently along the side of the incubator. For a moment his hand stilled, and then impulsively he reached up and opened the incubator. Reaching in, he gathered the infant into his arms. While she lived, he had been denied the chance to hold her. Now, he seemed to be determined not to let anything stand in his way.

Looking down at his daughter, Trip was suddenly overcome by grief. He dropped his head and quietly began to sob.

T'Pol took a deep breath and pressed her lips together. Phlox knew she was desperately trying to remain in control of her emotions. She extended a trembling hand and lightly stroked the head of her child.

Her eyes remained fixed on the infant's body as she said quietly, "Doctor, will you please see that Elizabeth is properly cared for?"

"Of course, Commander," Phlox said, his voice tight with emotion. "I'm so sorry that I could not do more…that I was unable to save her. She was a lovely child."

T'Pol shook her head, a movement so subtle that it was almost imperceptible. "I must meditate." She looked once more into the face of her daughter then abruptly turned and walked away. She managed to mumble, "I'll be in my quarters, Doctor, if you need me," as the sickbay doors slid shut behind her.

After a moment Phlox slowly reached up and took hold of Trip's shoulder. "Commander Tucker."

The engineer took a deep breath and straightened, but instead of handing Phlox the child, he gripped her more tightly. Shakily, he managed to choke out, "Not yet." Understanding the human's need to grieve, the doctor squeezed the young father's shoulder once then left him alone.

From his vantage point in his laboratory, Phlox watched as Trip slowly walked around sickbay, rocking his dead child in his arms. He seemed to be driven to tell his daughter everything he would have shared with her had she lived: stories of _Enterprise_ and her crew, tales of his family and her namesake, his sister Elizabeth. Speaking softly, but with an unmistakable note of desperation in his voice, he tried to make sure that she understood who she was and that she was truly loved.

After several hours had passed, Phlox felt compelled to intervene. Trip was telling Elizabeth about his visit to Vulcan and his unexpected meeting with T'Pol's mother, T'Les, when the doctor interrupted softly, "Commander, please let me have the child."

A look of panic flitted across Trip's face. He hesitated but then his stubborn streak kicked in. He shook his head decisively and started forward again. Phlox didn't want to add to the grieving father's pain, but he knew he had to end this now, both for the commander's well-being and, quite frankly, for his own.

Moving directly into his path, Phlox forced the young engineer to stop and look at him. "Commander, you must allow me to take Elizabeth now. I know this is hard for you, but I promise that she will be well cared for."

"No," Trips voice was soft, yet firm.

"Commander, please…"

"She needs me," Trip said, his voice breaking with emotion. "I'm not just going to abandon her. She's my daughter, Phlox." His voice was now barely above a whisper.

The doctor stepped closer and tried to steel himself for the painful act he knew he had to perform. "Elizabeth won't be alone. She'll be with me. I'll take care of her." As Trip hugged the child closer, Phlox's voice became more strained. "You must let her go, Commander."

Slowly, tears began to slide down Trip's cheeks. "No, please…just a little longer," he pleaded.

Phlox reached for the child. "Please don't make this any harder than it already is." It was a struggle, but he managed to keep his voice firm.

Trip's shoulders slumped in resignation. "All right," he said tremulously.

As the young engineer leaned over and gently placed one final kiss on his daughter's forehead, Phlox pulled the child from her father's arms. Before the doctor could move away, Trip reached out and ran his finger lightly over the tip of one tiny pointed ear and whispered, "Good-bye, my darlin'."

As Tucker squeezed his eyes shut against the tears, Phlox took the infant from the room. When he returned minutes later, the commander was gone.

Memories of the next several days were a bit blurred. Preparations for the memorial service, diplomatic appearances, visits from family members and friends all blended with frequent assaults by the media to keep _Enterprise_'s senior staff hopping.

Mercifully the memorial service was kept small and very private. As promised, the dignitaries from Vulcan, Andoria and other alien worlds were there to pay their respects. Through it all Commanders Tucker and T'Pol remained dignified and composed. Only someone who knew them well could detect their inner struggle to maintain their stoic façades.

They stood near their child's tiny coffin, heads bowed. Although they never touched, they seemed to draw silent strength from each other. When the service ended and those present had expressed their condolences and moved on, the two grieving parents remained. Only when Phlox stole one final glance, did he notice Commander Tucker reach out and take T'Pol's hand gently in his.

- - - - - - - - - -

Doctor Phlox shook his head to clear away the memories. Some things were best left in the past. As he rushed around bringing food and water to his creatures of the night, he tried to turn his mind to more profitable pursuits, but it was not to be.

Closing the door on the final cage, he sighed in resignation. He had hoped that the death of their child would finally bring her two stubborn parents together, but that no longer seemed possible. Captain Archer had given both of them some time off after the funeral, and for several weeks they were inseparable. Then slowly they began to drift apart. Not surprisingly, both now sought solace in their work.

Of the two, T'Pol appeared to have had more success in weathering the storm. She had somehow managed, in a relatively short span of time, to transform herself once again into a Vulcan's Vulcan: humorless, logical, emotions controlled by an iron will. The emotional lapses she experienced in the Expanse seemed to be a thing of the past.

Commander Tucker, on the other hand, was not well. He worked too hard, ate too little, and slept only when drugged into a state of complete oblivion. He had slowly but systematically shut himself off from the comfort and support of his friends and denied himself even the smallest pleasures. Phlox was worried about him, but the stubborn human categorically denied that there was anything wrong.

Phlox knew that T'Pol still cared deeply for the engineer, yet she had chosen to walk away from their relationship. And there was no question in his mind that the decision to part had been made by the Vulcan. Even though the commanders were two of the bravest people he had ever known, the hatred engendered by the fanatics in Terra Prime would give any couple pause for thought. A relationship between two people was difficult enough without the unrelenting ostracism, vilification, and invasion of privacy that had been and continued to be visited upon his two friends.

When Phlox sat down to write to his dear friend, Doctor Lucas, he decided to fill him in on everything that had transpired in the hope that his colleague could offer a fresh perspective. There was no doubt in Phlox's mind that this whole miserable affair was not over. They had simply entered the eye of the storm. The worst was yet to come.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

CHAPTER 4: T'POL

After Dr. Phlox left the mess hall, Commander T'Pol continued to sit quietly at her table. She held a padd in her hand, but she was not interested in the data on sensor upgrades. She had come to the mess hall for one and only one reason: to keep watch over Commander Tucker. By now she knew his habits as well as she knew her own. He frequented the mess hall late at night. They never spoke or acknowledged each other's presence, but it gave her the opportunity to check on his well-being. Was he eating? Sleeping?

What had she told Phlox? The past cannot be changed and regret is useless. There was no question that these were important words to live by, especially for a Vulcan. She should have been able to suppress any feelings of guilt or regret, but she unfortunately felt both keenly. It had been her decision to end her relationship with the commander two months ago. Yet she cared deeply for him, and it distressed her to see the vibrant, fun-loving man who had captured her heart, slowly turn into a silent automaton. She couldn't fault his work. She could never fault his work. He was brilliant and dedicated, but he was so much more.

She thought about going to her cabin, but decided against it. She feared that tonight it would only remind her of Trip and the sublime nights she had spent there in his arms. She thought about tracking him down, but once she found him, what could she say to him? Even if she finally broke down and told him of her regard for him, would he listen? Would he care about her any longer or her love for him?

"Yes," she whispered aloud into the all-encompassing silence of the deserted mess hall. "I do love him." She could hide her emotions from him and from all others around her, but she could no longer hide them from herself. It was the cross that she alone would have to bear.

For one brief moment her temper flared. _Why didn't he fight for me?_ she thought angrily. _A Vulcan male would have fought for his mate. Why didn't he berate me? Shout at me? Tell me that we were meant to be together and he would never let me go? If he truly loved me, why did he always accept quietly and simply walk away? Am I unworthy of the struggle to possess me?_

But as quickly as her temper flared, it cooled again. Logic. Her life must always be grounded in logic. What good would it have done if he had fought for her? Would anything have changed? Probably not. She would have seen to that. That thought left her feeling empty and bereft.

Sighing, she rose to get a mug of tea. Maybe a hot beverage would soothe her troubled soul. "Chamomile tea…hot," she said as she had countless times before. With the steaming mug in her hands and nowhere else to go, T'Pol returned to her table in the corner and sat. As she crossed her legs she fixed her eyes again upon the stars. Had she made the right decision? She hoped so for both their sakes. How had a romance that seemed destined in these very stars fallen apart so quickly?

- - - - - - - - - -

From the moment Elizabeth came into their lives, T'Pol and Trip became inseparable. Even when they were physically apart, he was always with her through their bond. T'Pol knew that he didn't understand it. He fought against the invasion of his private thoughts, but she also knew that he never once considered abolishing it. He understood that she needed him, and he was determined not to let her down.

When their baby died, T'Pol fled to her quarters. She craved solitude and the solace that only meditation could bring, but this time she found no relief from her anguish. She fought to keep her emotions in check, but it was so difficult. She hadn't realized that she could experience such depth of feeling for another being, especially one that was technically not of her body. But feel she did, and it was frightening.

She knew Trip was suffering, too. When he came to her quarters to inform her of the delegates' desire to pay their respects to Elizabeth, the tears that streamed down his cheeks were all too real. A lesser man would have disowned a child spawned in secret by terrorists, but not her Trip. He had loved their child as totally and unquestionably as she did and just as sincerely mourned her loss.

When Trip told her of Phlox's discovery that a Vulcan and a human could indeed produce a healthy child, it had been the one shining moment in an endless night of black despair. She'd clutched his hand in hers and knew without reservation that they were destined to spend their lives together – two disparate individuals who were greater, stronger, far more formidable together than apart.

The conference, Elizabeth's memorial service, and the seemingly endless meetings left her with little time to reflect on her loss. It was difficult, but she managed to remain in control of her emotions, even standing by the coffin of her child. She accepted the condolences of friends, dignitaries, and colleagues with grace and dignity. She was everything a Vulcan officer should be until the night following her daughter's memorial service, when her world fell apart.

Her statement to Commander Tucker in the Expanse about Vulcans being overwhelmed by their emotions at a time of great personal loss had been all too true. Her addiction and the subsequent loss of her emotional control, the carnage of the Expanse, her mother's death, the reordering of Vulcan society, and the death of her child all merged into one deep, searing pain. She felt helpless because she didn't know how to begin to heal, and then Trip had been there.

He'd explained to her once that during his childhood he'd learned to compartmentalize his thoughts. He could create rooms in his mind where he could keep the pain, guilt and fear locked away until the day came when he was able to deal with his feelings. Though he paid a heavy price to keep those rooms barricaded shut, it allowed him to mourn in his own good time. And in the interim, he could function effectively while many other people would have been incapacitated by their grief.

After the memorial service, T'Pol knew that he thought only of her. He locked away all of his own sorrow for their infant daughter in those little rooms in his head and gave himself over completely to helping her. She'd watched him do this in the Expanse when he fought to control his grief following his sister's death. She knew the constant struggle he'd waged to keep everything bottled up. His self-discipline was impressive, even by Vulcan standards, but it did worry her.

Unofficially, he moved into her quarters. He slept there, he ate there, and when she was on the mend and needed to feel alive again, they made love there.

Her need was so great that she took from him without thought or consideration. A part of her knew that she was being selfish, but it made no difference. She was fighting for her life. Day after day, she processed her emotions through him. Fear, anger, grief, loneliness and guilt became their constant companions. Slowly, through their bond, he was able to show her how humans deal with their emotions. Then he offered her his strength and a place of peace and serenity to practice what she had learned. She, in turn, taught him to meditate so that he could offer her his help and support in a manner less foreign to her. With their knowledge of neuropressure, they were both able to snatch a few precious hours of sleep amid the turmoil.

Only when she began to heal did she fully understand the price he paid for his devotion to her.

One day when he emerged from the shower, she really looked at him for the first time in weeks, and she was distressed by what she saw. He had lost weight – at least ten pounds and possibly more. Trip, of course, insisted that she was imagining things, but she knew better. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, and when he walked, he seemed sluggish.

For the rest of the day and into the night she monitored him closely. At dinnertime, she watched as he shoveled food into his mouth. In the past, he had kept up a running conversation on trivial subjects while they ate. Now there was only silence. He seemed to take no pleasure from the food his ate. In fact, he barely seemed to even taste it. Something was definitely wrong.

That night she feigned sleep then watched in silence as he slid out of bed, put on a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt, and stole quietly out of the room. Worried, she rose, dressed quickly then started to follow him. But where would he go? The mess hall? The captain's quarters? Sickbay? She frowned slightly at the thought of him requiring the assistance of Doctor Phlox. Slowly, she turned and walked over to her monitor. She tapped into her bridge array and quickly located him. He was in the gym. In seconds she was up and out of the room.

Moving resolutely down the corridor, she thought about what she would say to him. Should she simply tell him that she was concerned for his welfare? No. He would only tell her again that her concern was unwarranted. Should she simply walk in and act surprised to see him? No, definitely not. He'd left her supposedly asleep in bed. What possible reason could she have for being in the gym? Perhaps she could claim that she'd had a bad dream and woke to find him missing? That would still not explain why she'd come after him. Besides, she'd made it clear to him that Vulcans don't dream. She brightened slightly. Fortunately, he never believed her claims.

She was still exploring her options when she arrived at the gym. Standing before the door, she paused. Was she doing the right thing? He asked so little of her. Didn't he deserve some time alone? She had just about decided to return to her quarters when the door slid open and Travis Mayweather barreled into her. Though equally surprised, Mayweather managed to steady her before she fell. Fortunately, she was able to catch sight of Trip before the door slid shut.

"I'm sorry, Commander," the young helmsman said sincerely as he jerked his hands away. "I should have been more careful."

Her poise restored T'Pol said firmly, "I was equally at fault, Ensign. There was no way that you could have known that I was on the other side of the door."

Relieved, Travis gave her a weak smile. "Well, good night, Commander," he murmured and started to leave.

"Wait!" No one was more surprised than T'Pol when the word burst from her lips. Travis stopped abruptly and stared at her. Her mouth opened but nothing came out.

"Commander?" Travis asked with concern in his voice.

T'Pol straightened her spine. She was a senior officer and a Vulcan. Her actions so far were unseemly. This must cease.

"I noticed Commander Tucker in the gym," she started slowly.

When nothing else was forthcoming the perplexed young helmsman responded, "Yes, ma'am."

Trying to keep her tone conversational T'Pol continued, "Does he come here often?"

"Do you mean at night?"

T'Pol nodded.

"I can't speak from personal knowledge, but word has it that since the two of you went on sick leave, the commander spends almost every night in the gym. He runs for hours, punches the bag, you know lots of physical exercise." Her gaze slipped from the young ensign to the door. "Is there anything else, Commander?" he asked quietly.

"No," she said softly. "Thank you, but…no."

Travis started to leave then stopped and turned to face T'Pol. "I didn't get a chance to see you after the memorial service," he said a bit awkwardly. "I wanted to express my condolences. I can still see you standing there with the baby in your arms. It just doesn't seem possible that she's gone."

T'Pol's lips tightened. She knew that his intentions were well meant. He wanted to offer her some comfort, but instead his words brought with them a cascade of pain. She gripped her hands tightly behind her back and held on. Taking a deep but shaky breath, she said, "Thank you, Ensign." She struggled to keep any hint of emotion from her voice. "Her passing was a great loss…for both of us."

Travis smiled weakly. "Well, good night, Commander," he said before turning and heading to his quarters.

"Good night," T'Pol whispered. Suddenly she had to see her mate. It didn't matter what excuse she gave him. She had to see him now. She pressed the button, and the door slid open.

A quick look around revealed that he was alone. He was still on the treadmill running as though a le-matya was bearing down on him. Though his eyes were slightly downcast, she could still see the naked desperation in them. He was bathed in perspiration. His lovely hair, so soft to her touch, was now matted and sweat-soaked.

She took a step forward. "Trip," she said quietly. When he failed to respond, she summoned her courage and spoke louder. "Trip!"

His eyes flew up to meet hers, but his feet still pounded against the treadmill. For a moment she was afraid that he would ignore her, but then the treadmill slowed to a stop and he stepped off. He grabbed a towel and scrubbed it across his face. He then proceeded to run it up over the top of his head, rubbing away some of the moisture from his hair before draping the now soggy towel around his neck. He stared at her incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

"I…" Still unsure of herself, she turned her head so she wouldn't have to meet his eyes. "I woke up and you were gone." Her eyes slowly crept back to him. "I was worried."

Trip came towards her, his hands gripping the ends of the towel about his neck. "There's no cause to be worried," he said reassuringly. "I've been cooped up a lot lately. I just figured I'd get a little exercise."

Now who was lying, she thought as anger quickly flared through her. "A little exercise," she scoffed. "You seem to require a little exercise on a nightly basis…and without my knowledge."

Trip bristled. "Since when do I have to account to you for everything I do?" he said angrily. "I'm there when you need me. And besides," he was now standing toe to toe with her, "what makes you think that I'm in here every night?"

T'Pol decided to remain inscrutable. "I have my sources."

"Bull!" Trip shouted in her face and then stalked toward the door.

Suddenly, all of the starch left T'Pol's spine and she wilted. She didn't want a fight. She wanted to help him. There had to be a reason why he was trying to run himself into the ground. Would she ever learn to communicate with this stubborn human? Sinking to the floor, she bowed her head in remorse.

Within moments, she felt two hands lightly grip her shoulders then slowly rub up and down her arms as he knelt behind her. She inhaled his scent and leaned back against his chest. "I'm sorry, T'Pol," Trip murmured quietly. He bent over and gently kissed her ear. "I didn't mean to snap at you. Please forgive me." He enfolded her in his arms.

Her fingers brushed lightly against his hand. "It is I who should be asking forgiveness," she said softly. "I should not have intruded. You deserve some time alone, but…," she stopped, needing to know, but afraid to anger him further.

When he pulled away from her she suddenly felt very cold and alone, but the feeling was short-lived. Trip came around and sat cross-legged in front of her, his expression one of concern, not anger or irritation. "Do you really want to know why I come here every night?" he asked seriously.

She looked deeply into his eyes, swallowed hard then nodded her head.

He took a deep breath. "I come here for us, T'Pol," he started slowly. He spoke gently but there was assurance in his voice. "This is what I have to do to be able to help you with your emotions."

She stared at him in confusion. "I do not understand."

Trip shifted restlessly and cast his eyes about the room as if trying to find the right words. "When your emotions are added to my emotions, well …it can kinda be too much of a good thing." T'Pol continued to look bewildered. Once again, he shifted uncertainly as he searched for a better way to explain. When his face lit up she could tell that inspiration had struck. "You understand how an old-fashioned boiler works," he said, leaning in towards her. "If you stoke the boiler too much, you either have to bleed off some of the steam or the boiler bursts. Well," he smiled wryly, "I'm just bleedin' off some of the steam."

"You have to do this every night," T'Pol said with concern in her voice.

"Almost every night," he said gently.

"For me?"

"For us."

"You should have told me," she said reproachfully. "I would have found some other way to…"

He put a finger to her lips. "There is no other way," he stated firmly, yet caringly. "You know it and I know it. Besides I like helpin' ya. I feel closer to you now than ever before, and I love it. I love you, T'Pol."

She sucked in her breath sharply. She already knew how he felt about her. He made it clear to her through their bond each and every day. This, however, was the first time he had actually put it into words. He loved her and would do anything for her. She had to say something. How could she be sure that she had conveyed her feelings as clearly through the bond as he did?

She reached up and caressed his cheek, her brown eyes focused solely on him. "And I care for you as well," she whispered.

He grinned as he took her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed her fingers gently. "If you're of a mind, I can think of a more pleasurable way to bleed off some of the steam we built up today. Unless you're too tired…"

She left little doubt that she understood his meaning as she grabbed his hand, pulled him up with her and hustled him out of the door.

Their lovemaking in the past had always been memorable, but on that night their passion ignited. They had finally said the words that had remained unspoken for far too long, and it took their union to a level more rapturous than either of them could ever have imagined. Finally, completely spent by the intensity of their lovemaking, Trip fell into a deep sleep, his beloved still enfolded securely in his arms.

But for T'Pol sleep would not come. She was confused and unsettled by her visit to the gym and his subsequent revelations. Could she accept his contention that the physical demands being made on his body were just a normal component of their evolving relationship? Could she really be the cause of his weight loss and fatigue?

Instantly, the memory of her dream from the Expanse came rushing back to her. His touch on her back was gentle just as she always knew it would be. He turned her so they were standing face to face, and then sparks flew as their lips met. Standing under the shower's spray entwined in each other's arms, with each kiss deeper and more passionate than the one before, the ecstasy she felt took her breath away. But then her greatest joy metamorphosed into her greatest fear. Her uncontrolled emotions were choking the life from him.

She shifted restlessly as she lay beside Trip and subconsciously tightened her grip on him. If this was true…if she was harming him… She squeezed her eyes shut as she fought to control the fear such thoughts engendered. He stirred and mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep. She quickly tried to calm herself; she must not let him feel her anxiety through their bond. Regardless of her feelings, she knew that she would not allow him to further endanger his health to assist her.

Unfortunately, she did not have all the information necessary to make a logical decision. Perhaps her concern was unwarranted. That thought sparked a tiny ray of hope. Their privacy was important, but so was Trip's health. Dr. Phlox was a good friend, and he was discreet. She decided that she had no choice. She would consult the physician tomorrow.

Her course of action determined, T'Pol was able to relax a little, but sleep still eluded her. She lay awake and watched the rise and fall of his chest, the movement of his eyes beneath his eyelids as he dreamed, and the soft glow that starlight gave to his features. Once again, Trip murmured in his sleep. He twisted restlessly and his brow wrinkled as though he was in the throes of a nightmare. T'Pol instantly reached for him. Stroking his face gently, she whispered soothing words to quiet him. He did not wake, but as the nightmare dissipated he snuggled closer to her. Soon he was sound asleep again. Her hand trailed down his neck, and she began to trace slow, gentle circles on his chest. She loved the feel of his soft hair beneath her fingers.

She could no longer deny her feelings. There was nothing she would not do for this man. This revelation should have brought her great peace. Instead, it left her apprehensive. Her devotion, she realized, could be both a blessing and a curse.

- - - - - - - - - -

Dr. Phlox was pleased to see her the next afternoon when she strode through the sickbay doors. "Commander T'Pol, what a pleasant surprise," he said jovially, a smile stretched from ear to ear. He was seated at his work station. The monitor before him was filled with data in an alien language. "It's good to see you looking fit. Is there something I can do for you or is this a social call?"

Now that she was here T'Pol was uncertain what to say. She hesitated then began slowly, "I require your assistance, Doctor." She held herself rigidly erect and willed her body to stop fidgeting. She was concerned that Phlox would notice her nervousness. "I am concerned about Commander Tucker." Now that she was committed, she forged ahead. "He does not look well," she said quietly. "He is pale and tired, and I believe he has lost weight."

"I know that these past few weeks have been difficult for both of you," Phlox said, his smile dimming. He abandoned the laboratory notes he was compiling and walked over to stand in front of her. "The grieving process often makes demands on the body as well as the mind. Is there a particular problem I should be aware of?"

T'Pol slowly revealed the medical scanner she had concealed behind her back. She held it for a moment, once again wondering if she was doing the right thing. Finally, she handed it to the doctor.

A frown crept across Phlox's face as he reviewed the data. He turned, walked over to a monitor and brought up the Commander's medical file. "When was this data taken?" he asked soberly.

"Early this morning," T'Pol said then took a deep breath. "I took the readings while he was in the shower." She paused. "He was not aware of it."

"Does he know that you are consulting me on his behalf?"

"No," she said quietly. "He does not believe that there is a problem." She raised her chin and straightened her shoulders. "But I do."

"If these readings are correct," Phlox said slowly, "then I'm afraid I'll have to side with you on this. I think it would be wise for the commander to see me as soon as possible."

T'Pol cringed inwardly as her fears were confirmed. "What is wrong with him?" _Is it something I've done?_ was her unspoken plea.

"I can't make a firm diagnosis without seeing him of course, but I can tell you that he appears to be debilitated. This scan indicates that his blood pressure is dangerously high, and you are correct about his weight loss. My records show that he's lost almost 15 pounds."

T'Pol shook her head slightly and walked across the room, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Head bowed, she stood with her back to the doctor.

For a few moments, Phlox left T'Pol to her thoughts. Finally, he said, "I monitored Commander Tucker's condition after his sister died. His grief manifested itself physically at that time as well, but not to this extent." Phlox framed his next statement carefully. "I take it that Mr. Tucker has helped to ease the burden caused by your loss of emotional control."

She turned her head to look over her shoulder at him then looked away again. "If things remain as they are what will happen to him?" she asked her voice barely above a whisper.

"I can't say for certain without examining him, T'Pol, you know that." Phlox walked over to stand next to her, but stayed out of her line of sight. "Commander Tucker pays little heed to the needs of his body even in the best of times. With all of the stress of the last few weeks coupled with the added burden of your emotions, well…" His thought remained unfinished. "Suffice it to say that these readings clearly indicate that he needs to slow down immediately. If he is unable to do it naturally, then he will require medication."

"You're saying this could damage him permanently," she said bitterly, "possibly even lead to his death."

Exasperated, Phlox replied, "I didn't say that. I can't make that kind of determination without…"

"If this goes unchecked," T'Pol interrupted firmly, "it could do irreparable damage to him. Yes or no?" She turned abruptly to face the Doctor, her features challenging him to prove her wrong.

"Well, yes," Phlox said hesitantly. He seemed to be rather surprised by her confrontational demeanor.

"Then I must separate myself from him."

Phlox practically threw his hands in the air in frustration. "Don't make assumptions, T'Pol, and don't make any rash decisions. You have suffered a grievous loss, but you are handling it. You are gaining greater control over your emotions every day. I can tell that just by looking at you." When she once again turned away from him Phlox rushed on, "Your daughter's death forced the two of you to deal with your shared emotions for the first time, and it has had unexpected consequences for Commander Tucker. These things sometimes happen. Have him come and see me. We'll deal with it, and the next time you are faced with a traumatic situation, it will be easier for both of you. I can promise you that."

Could the situation really be so simple to resolve? T'Pol desperately wanted to believe him, but once again she remembered her dream. She saw her face change from that of a passionate lover to a grotesque monster.

"I can ask him to come, but I do not believe he will do it," she murmured.

Phlox strode over to the comm. "Doctor Phlox to Commander Tucker." There was silence. "Commander Tucker, please respond."

"Sorry for the delay, Doc," Trip drawled. "I'm in the middle of purging the impulse manifolds. What can I do for ya?"

"I'd like to see you in sickbay as soon as possible."

Once again there was silence.

"Commander…"

"Sickbay? Is there a problem with some of your equipment? If something's malfunctioning, I'll get one of my engineers right…"

"I need to see you, Commander, not one of your engineers. You are overdue for a physical. Now is as good a time as any."

"Aw, Doc," Trip whined, "I'm fine." Suddenly his voice changed from reluctant little boy to outraged adult. "Hey, have you been talkin' to T'Pol? That's it, isn't it? She told you some kind of nonsense…"

"I never listen to nonsense, Mr. Tucker," Phlox said with a sigh. "I can appreciate your reluctance to come to sickbay, but I can assure you that it is necessary. It's never wise to avoid routine medical exams."

"But…"

"Now, Commander," Phlox said firmly.

"But I don't need…"

"I will call security if that's what is required to get you down here."

"Security!"

"Doctor Phlox to…

"Okay, okay, you win," Trip said grumpily. "I'll come down and let you check me out, but I just want you to know that I'm not happy about this."

"Duly noted, Commander. Phlox out." The Doctor spun around and looked fixedly at T'Pol. "He's on his way. I will find out what is wrong with him and together we will make it right. You are not to worry."

"Vulcans do not worry." The response had become so automatic that the words were out of T'Pol's mouth before she realized it.

Scowling, Phlox responded, "Don't insult my intelligence. Now, do I have your promise that you won't worry about this?" When she didn't reply, he reiterated, "T'Pol, do I have your word?"

She pressed her lips together and nodded her head.

"Good. Now you'd better go. Commander Tucker may have his doubts, but he'll be forced to accept the fact that this summons came from me and me alone. I will not mention your involvement."

Reluctantly, T'Pol knew that he was right. Without another word, she turned and walked out of the door.

After leaving sickbay, T'Pol thought about returning to her quarters, but instead she slowly made her way to the mess hall. Deep down, she knew that this decision was not motivated by hunger or by thirst; she was simply trying to avoid one enraged chief engineer. She walked over to the beverage dispenser, requested chamomile tea, and then blindly sat down at the first table she came to.

Over the next half hour she pretended to sip her tea as she tried to sort out her feelings. She carefully shielded her thoughts from Trip, but she still worried that he could sense through their bond that she was uneasy about his health. Would he feel betrayed if he knew that she had secretly taken medical readings and passed the information along to Doctor Phlox? _No_, she thought, trying to calm herself_. It was not a betrayal. I had to know if he was unwell. I only did what was logical and necessary_.

If he was ill and nothing was done… _No!_ her mind reeled. She could not bear the thought of losing him. Her counterpart on the other _Enterprise_ had been forced to mourn a loving, giving husband who had died too young. Suddenly, she realized that she didn't know the cause of the other Trip's untimely death. What if it wasn't the result of an accident? What if it was because of her? She squeezed her eyes shut and fought the wave of dread that thought produced. After a brief struggle, she was finally able to calm herself. It was only reasonable to suppose that if her older self had known such a damning fact, she would have told her. She had loved Trip, too. She wouldn't have allowed any harm to come to him. His death must have been an accident.

Suddenly aware of people milling around her, T'Pol opened her eyes and carefully reordered her features, removing all trace of emotion. Such displays were unseemly. She pushed the mug aside, fixed her eyes on a single crumb on the table top before her, and resumed her contemplation.

They were bonded. In her culture that was tantamount to being married. But did she want a husband? She shifted restlessly in her chair. Was she willing to bind herself for all time to an emotional human male who frustrated her at every turn? How would their union affect their careers? Would they ever be accepted on Vulcan or on Earth? Would they perpetually be targets for every xenophobe trying to make a statement to the universe? Could they have children together? She wanted children; she knew that Trip did, too. Yes, there had been Lorian and Elizabeth, but could they…

"May I join you, Commander?"

T'Pol was so deeply engrossed in her thoughts that at first she was unaware of the person standing next to her. A hand touched her shoulder lightly and she jumped.

"Commander, are you all right?" Hoshi asked anxiously.

"Ensign Sato." T'Pol straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath.

"Do you mind if I join you? I don't want to disturb you if…"

"Of course, Ensign," T'Pol said motioning to a chair across the table. She really didn't want any company, but it was unacceptable to be rude. Truth be told, she wanted to return to sickbay, but that was unwise. She had to be patient.

"If you're busy, Commander, I can leave."

The Vulcan saw Hoshi's questioning look.

"Not at all," T'Pol said. "I was just working on…" T'Pol started to speak, but stopped abruptly. On what? She had been off duty for the past several weeks. She had no padd, no data before her. Desperate, she grasped the first idea that sprang into her mind. "I was working on a plan to upgrade the long-range sensors…when I return to duty, of course." She winced inwardly. Her response was inadequate at best.

Ensign Sato placed her tray on the table and sat down. She seemed to be unaware of T'Pol's discomfort. "How are you doing?" Hoshi asked solicitously. "These past couple of weeks must have been pretty rough?"

T'Pol crossed her legs restlessly. "I am well, thank you." She did not want to have this conversation; her emotions were already too close to the surface. She decided to change the subject. "What is our present position, Ensign? Will we be staying in close proximity to Earth?"

Hoshi opened her mouth to reply, but T'Pol never heard her response. She was suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of panic so intense that it took her breath away. Trip! She jumped to her feet. Before the bewildered ensign could ask what was wrong, T'Pol was out the door and on her way to sickbay.

As she rushed through the sickbay doors, she saw Phlox monitoring the display above one of the biobeds. Commander Tucker lay on the bed, unconscious.

When the doctor heard the doors open, he jerked his head around. He appeared to be surprised to see her. "He's all right, T'Pol," Phlox said, raising one hand, palm forward in an attempt to calm her. "His breathing is stabilizing. His heart rate has almost returned to normal. There is no cause for concern."

"What happened?" she said hoarsely. In a few quick steps she was standing beside the bed. Her right hand reached out and gripped Trip's left arm. She needed to touch him, to reassure herself that he was still alive. "Why is he unconscious?"

"He had an allergic reaction to the medication I gave him," Phlox answered calmly. "He had some difficulty breathing and lost consciousness, but I was able to neutralize the effects of the medication before any real damage was done. He's going to be all right. In fact he should be waking up any minute now."

T'Pol's eyes never left Trip's face. "I am the cause of this."

"No, T'Pol," Phlox said adamantly. "If anyone is at fault, I am. Commander Tucker's medical records did not indicate that he was allergic to the medication I administered, but sometimes human bodies change. There are other medications that I can prescribe which will pose no threat to him. The sleeplessness, the fatigue, the accelerated metabolism are all problems that can be resolved. And, all things considered, he appears to be handling the mental stress and strain from your ordeal quite well."

She looked up at the doctor, her eyes beseeching. She wanted to believe what he said with all her heart.

When Trip moaned softly and began to stir, T'Pol once again fixed her gaze on him. "Trip," she said softly, her hand gently caressing his forehead. _Come back to me, __Ashal-veh_, was the urgent plea she sent silently through their bond.

Tucker opened his eyes just enough to make out the face of the person leaning over him. "Hi, darlin'," he managed to whisper before his eyelids once again began to slide shut.

"Stay awake, Trip." T'Pol gently cupped the side of his face with her hand.

"Um, okay," he mumbled. "Kinda hard to breathe."

T'Pol looked accusingly at the doctor, but said nothing.

"Let's have a look at you, Commander," Phlox said his voice full of optimism. He hurriedly checked the engineer's vital signs, smiled and turned to T'Pol. "The swelling is going down nicely, and his breathing has almost returned to normal."

T'Pol's expression remained unchanged. She was not yet convinced that all was well.

Phlox turned his attention to the man on the biobed. "How are you feeling, Mr. Tucker?"

The engineer slowly tore his gaze away from T'Pol. "Been better," he mumbled, his voice still weak and breathless. "What happened?"

"You had an allergic reaction to the medication I gave you," Phlox explained, "but you should be fine now."

"That's good," Trip muttered. He appeared to be a bit disoriented. "Am I sick? Why are you dosin' me with medicine?"

"Why don't we talk about that tomorrow," Phlox said. "You need to get some rest, Mr. Tucker. Can you do that?"

T'Pol began to run her fingers gently through Trip's hair. Sighing contentedly, he looked up at her. "Will you stay for awhile?" he whispered. When she nodded he said softly, "Then I can sleep. Kinda tired." He gazed lovingly at her as his eyelids began to droop. Within minutes he was asleep.

Phlox produced a chair which she took gratefully. "I'll leave you two alone," he said softly. "Try to get some sleep, T'Pol. I know it's still early, but I have a feeling that you need it as much as he does." She nodded but remained noncommittal.

While Trip slept through the evening and into the night, T'Pol kept hold of his hand, but her thoughts were far away. In her mind, she replayed their relationship from the first moment they'd met to the night in the gymnasium when Trip had told her he loved her. She had made so many mistakes over the years. Time after time, she had treated him unfairly. What was right for him now? What was right for her? Could they ever have a future together? She looked at his pale face. Although he slumbered peacefully, the dark rings that spoke of days and weeks of sleeplessness were still all too obvious. She knew without a doubt that he was good for her, but was she good for him?

The shower dream once again invaded her thoughts. Four years ago when she'd asked Trip for his advice about her impending marriage to Koss, he posited that perhaps her subconscious mind had already made the decision for her. She, of course, had denied that Vulcans were influenced by their subconscious, but was that true? She'd listened to her subconscious then and remained on _Enterprise_. It was a decision that she had never regretted. During her time on board, however, she began to realize that her feelings for one human, Commander Charles Tucker III, had gone far beyond mere friendship. In the Expanse, her subconscious mind had warned her of the dire consequences that could result from a union with this man. She'd listened four years ago. Shouldn't she listen again, even though the message was not one she wanted to hear?

She had hurt him over and over again, and she knew that no matter what course of action she chose she would go on hurting him. He was so good for her, but she was now forced to admit to herself that she was not good for him. She owed it to him to do what was right. She would have to be strong for both of them.

T'Pol had been so deep in thought that she hadn't noticed that the doctor had dimmed the lights in sickbay. She stood slowly in the darkened room, Trip's hand still clasped in hers. She stared down at him memorizing every line, every feature of his face then she bent over and kissed him gently on the lips. He stirred but did not wake. Maybe it was just as well, she thought. She released her grip on his hand and stepped away from the bed. As she looked down at him, she sent a rush of feelings for him through their bond. Then she quietly walked out of sickbay. She never looked back.

- - - - - - - - - -

When Trip was released from sickbay early the next day, she welcomed him back to her quarters and listened attentively as he outlined the doctor's plan for his recovery. She was firmly committed to try whatever Phlox suggested, but deep down she had no real faith that it would succeed. Over the next few days, Trip did improve. He was able to sleep and he seemed to have more energy, but still she worried for him.

Then Doctor Phlox reduced Trip's medication. Her worry, fear and guilt, piled on top of Trip's long-standing efforts to keep his unresolved emotions bottled up, drove the engineer back to the gym that night, and T'Pol's mind was made up.

She slowly began to withdraw from him. At first, Trip was confused, but soon thereafter they decided jointly to return to work. He seemed to accept that the growing distance between them was a necessary part of resuming their professional lives.

The weeks spent with Trip had gone a long way toward helping T'Pol regain control of her emotions, but now the man who had once been her salvation was steadily becoming part of the problem. When they were together she constantly worried about him. However, when she was on the bridge, she was able to focus on the demands of her job rather than on her personal problems, and her control continued to improve.

She practiced the coping techniques Trip had taught her, meditated and gradually began to shield more and more of her thoughts and feelings. He was still technically living with her, but she found that when he worked late, he retired to his own quarters not to hers. And they seldom met anymore in that white world where she had always found peace and tranquility.

He never once confronted her about her decision to effectively cut him out of her life. Through their bond, she could sense how deeply hurt he was, but she could not allow that to influence her. She knew that he would never willingly let her go; he loved her too much. It was so deeply ingrained in his nature to give and give and give that he would continue to do so until there was nothing left. She could not ask that of him. The only way to protect him was to kill his love for her. She only hoped that she had the courage to do it and the strength to live with the consequences.

One day as she sat at her station on the bridge she felt him reach out to her, and once again she started to block him out. One minute he was there and then nothing. For a moment she was stunned. Her first thought was that something had happened to him. She turned abruptly toward Hoshi, but the young ensign sat placidly, unaware of T'Pol's concern. There was no emergency. There were no calls to sickbay. The only person who seemed to be upset was her. T'Pol quickly located Trip. He was in engineering. Everything appeared to be perfectly normal. She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them slowly. How was this possible? In all their time together over the last few weeks, she had never gotten around to teaching him how to shield his thoughts. Could he have managed to figure it out for himself? And do it so effectively? It didn't seem possible, but the emptiness she felt was silent testimony to his newly acquired skill.

Now that T'Pol was effectively shut out, a part of her wanted nothing more than to go to Trip, explain her actions, and ask for his forgiveness. But instead, she sat at her station rigid and numb. That night she went to bed alone, and she remained alone every night thereafter.

Members of the crew might have wondered about their relationship, but the two commanders never gave anyone cause to gossip. They were always professional in their dealings with the crew and with each other. And when their work was done, the two of them went their separate ways.

Slowly, T'Pol became aware that Commander Tucker's physical condition was not improving. If anything, he looked worse. She knew that he had been shaken by the disclosure of Ensign Masaro's treachery. Was that the problem? Or was it something else? She had sacrificed everything for him. Why wasn't he getting better? She wanted to go to him, but she decided to see Phlox instead. Much to her dismay, she discovered that since his return to work, Trip had not consulted the physician.

As she left sickbay she struggled to make sense of things. Why had she ever left Vulcan? Vulcan men were never this stubborn or unpredictable. The Kir'shara and her Vulcan heritage would be her salvation. Logic and self discipline provided a firm foundation that would enable her to rebuild her life. After her years on _Enterprise_ and her time with Trip, traditional Vulcan life seemed rather cold and sterile to her, but sadly she also knew that it was her only hope.

Several weeks later, T'Pol's meditation was interrupted by the sound of the door chimes. She rose slowly and walked to the door. Some sixth sense warned her to return to her meditation, but she cast that thought aside. When the door slid open, there stood one disheveled chief engineer. His grey sweat pants and muted red t-shirt were rumpled and his hair was unkempt. T'Pol caught her breath but said nothing.

"T'Pol," Trip said tightly, uneasily casting a glance down the corridor first to the right and then to the left, "I'm really sorry to bother ya. Can I come in?"

She hesitated a moment before saying, "I don't believe that would be wise, Commander."

He stood there, his eyes pleading with her. It was apparent that he was unwell. She wanted to embrace him and erect a protective wall around him to keep him safe, but she knew she could not.

"Please, T'Pol," he begged. "Just for a minute."

Reluctantly, she stepped aside and allowed him to enter.

Now that he was in she could tell that he was at a loss as to how to begin. He stood staring at her, one hand nervously kneading the other.

"What is it, Commander?"

His eyes never left her face. "T'Pol," he said tightly, "I need your help. Please. I have to get some sleep."

She shook her head almost imperceptibly. "Neuropressure." Her voice was flat and emotionless.

Trip hurried on seemingly before he lost his courage. "I know that I'm imposin' on ya, but I'm just so tired. I know that a little neuropressure would put me right ta sleep. If you could only…"

"And where will it end?"

The engineer stopped and stared at her, his bewilderment clearly written on his face. "I don't understand."

"Where will it end, Commander?" she said unfeelingly. "Because of our bond, you believe that if we resume our neuropressure sessions you will once again be welcome in my bed."

Trip entire body stiffened as he sharply sucked in his breath. For a few tense moments she feared that he would pass out before he allowed himself to breathe again. When he finally exhaled, his face began to redden as his body shook with pent up emotions.

"Is that the kind of a man you think I am?" His voice was strangled and filled with rage. "Do you think that all I want is a quick roll in the hay? That's not why I'm here!"

"I was persuaded to instruct you in the practice of Vulcan neuropressure against my better judgment."

"I needed your help!" he shouted.

"It was a mistake."

"A mistake." The words seemed to stick in his throat. "How can you say that?"

She steeled herself and forged ahead. "It was a mistake I am unwilling to make again."

Trip studied her face apparently searching for a tiny glimmer of hope, but she kept her features blank. "T'Pol," he said quietly, "I'm begging you. I'm so tired I can hardly think straight. Please don't turn me away. Not again."

There was no question in T'Pol's mind that it was possible for a heart to break. The look on his face as he pleaded for her help shattered her heart into a million pieces, but she could not allow her resolve to weaken. "I am sorry that you are having problems with insomnia, Commander," she said, expending a great deal of effort to keep her voice steady, "but Dr. Phlox can provide you with the relief you seek."

"Isn't there anything left for us?" Trip asked beseechingly. "After all that we've been to each other…"

"No, Commander," she interrupted. "The bond between us is an…inconvenience, but we are both very adept at screening our thoughts. Whatever we had together is buried with Elizabeth. The dead should be left to rest in peace."

"T'Pol!" He took a step toward her but halted when she moved away from him. "If you would just let me talk to you. Please!"

"My interests lay elsewhere, Commander."

"Interests? I don't …?"

"I want you to leave."

"Leave!" Tucker was incensed. "You're throwin' me out!"

It took every ounce of willpower for T'Pol to keep her voice from shaking. "Please don't make me summon security and have you removed." She took a couple of steps toward the comm panel, her arm outstretched.

She saw his shoulders droop as all of the fight drained out of him. He stared at her with a look of pure anguish on his face, and then his gaze slipped away. He took several deep breaths, trying to pull himself together. Finally, in a strangled voice, he said, "I'm sorry I bothered you, Commander. It won't happen again. Good night." He didn't wait for a reply. He simply turned and walked unsteadily out of the door.

T'Pol stood rigid and still. Her years of training in self-control were all that prevented her from calling him back. His need was real. He asked for so little, and she had denied him. She had insulted him and stripped him of any vestige of hope. What she had done was despicable. "Please forgive me, Trip," she whispered as she raised a trembling hand to her lips.

Sending him away was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do: harder than holding her mother as she lay dying; harder than watching the life force slip from Elizabeth's tiny body. Those events were out of her control. This, on the other hand, was an event that she had set in motion, and the knowledge of that filled her with unspeakable pain.

- - - - - - - - - -

T'Pol took a deep breath and shifted in her chair. What time was it? She looked around her. Crewmen were beginning to file into the mess hall looking for their breakfast. She would soon need to leave to begin her shift. She knew she should eat something, but the thought of food was not appealing. Not on top of a night of bitter regret. Gracefully, she rose and left the mess hall.

Her destination was her quarters, not the bridge. There was still time for a quick shower and a change of clothes. Suddenly she tensed. The searing dream from the Expanse once again assailed her. She could almost feel Trip's hands on her body as the water poured over them. She could feel his passion for her. Each phantom sensation produced waves of emotions that were so powerful, they threatened to overwhelm her. Why was this happening? A dream was ephemeral. She shouldn't have to live with this nightmare for the rest of her life. Would she always be forced to see herself transformed into a monster? Aware that the corridor in which she was standing was a public place, T'Pol shakily pulled herself together and continued on.

When she reached the solitude of her cabin, she sat down on her bed and hugged her legs close to her chest. Could she possibly be wrong? Is that why the dream kept returning? Was her mind trying to tell her that her sin lay not in using Trip to control her emotions, but in callously casting him aside without explanation? She didn't know what was right anymore. She didn't know what to feel.

_No!_ she screamed inwardly. _I don't want to feel! Never again!_

For one glorious moment she had had everything: a rewarding career, a beautiful daughter, a bondmate who loved her passionately, and the promise of a fulfilling life together. But before she could fully grasp her good fortune, it had been viciously snatched from her, leaving her broken and desolate. It seemed as though fate was determined to prove to her that a union between a Vulcan and a human could only end in abject misery and pain.

T'Pol once again thought of her mother. If only she could talk to her one last time and ask for her advice. But T'Les was gone. So were her father and her daughter. She was all alone.

She knew she should rise and prepare for work, but she couldn't do it. Not yet. She just needed a little more time to pull herself together. Exhausted, she curled up on her bed. She desperately missed Trip and the stability and comfort of his love. She missed being with him, talking to him. She missed feeling his calming presence through their bond.

Those days following Elizabeth's death, though full of anguish, were some of the most satisfying of her life. She and Trip had been joined in a way that defied description, and she mourned the loss of that special connection, that special man.

For one brief moment she wanted to back Commander Tucker up against a bulkhead and give him a piece of her mind. Everything she'd done had been for him. Couldn't he see that? Couldn't he understand that she was only trying to keep him safe? Couldn't he understand that in giving him up, she was providing undeniable proof of her love for him? Couldn't he be content? Couldn't he be healthy? Couldn't he partition off a tiny section of his life and allow her to crawl into it, if only as a friend? But there was only silence and loneliness and never ending pain between them. T'Pol never paid much attention to Earth sayings, but one, unbidden, popped into her mind and she could not shake free of it: the road to Hell truly was paved with good intentions.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

CHAPTER 5: TRIP

Commander Tucker could feel the doctor's eyes boring into the back of his head. He shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny and drained the last few drops from his mug of coffee. A bowl of cold chicken noodle soup sat untouched on the table in front of him. There was no conversation, no clink of flatware against plates; the mess hall was perfectly quiet.

Against his will his eyes strayed over to the slim Vulcan female seated alone at a table across the room. _Typical_, Trip thought. _Always turning her back on me_.

The pain he felt was as real as if a knife had been plunged into his heart. He couldn't take anymore of this. He had to get out now. He set his mug back down on the table a little more forcibly than he intended. _Careful_, he cautioned himself. Don't _let her see how rattled you are. Don't give her the satisfaction_. Standing, he grabbed a padd containing the next month's maintenance schedule, pretended to check the data, then walked out of the room.

As soon as he cleared the door and heard it hiss shut, he stopped and slumped against the bulkhead. He was tired down to the marrow of his bones. His world was spinning out of control, and he seemed to be powerless to do anything about it. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder and he jerked around. Trip wasted no time shrugging off Malcolm's hand. Breathing in deeply, he straightened his shoulders and tried to convey the impression that there was nothing amiss.

Malcolm slowly lowered his hand, never taking his eyes off of his friend. "Are you all right, Trip?"

"I'm fine," Trip shot back. He knew he was being rude, but he couldn't seem to help himself. He started to back away. "Sorry, Lieutenant, but I can't talk now. I have to get back to work."

As he headed down the corridor, he knew Malcolm was staring at him, but he didn't care. He didn't need Malcolm's pity or Phlox's disapproving glances or Archer's feeble attempts to rekindle their friendship. Why couldn't everyone just leave him alone!

He swallowed hard as he fought to stay in control. So much had happened to him in the past few months that he couldn't take it all in: the baby, his parents, Masaro, T'Pol. Everything he touched seemed to wither and die. There must be something he could do to make things right. He just needed some time to figure things out. Just a little time…by himself. Until then, he needed to work.

- - - - - - - - - -

Both commanders had wanted to return to _Enterprise_ immediately after Elizabeth's memorial service, but they had to first meet their professional obligations. They were the tangible embodiment of the child that had brought a unifying spirit to the conference. Although everyone paid lip service to their need to sequester themselves, they were constantly in demand by the media, their colleagues, and countless strangers who tried to get a peak at the now famous couple.

Through their bond Trip knew that T'Pol was deeply distressed. Her daughter's memorial service had been difficult enough, but being placed on public display was almost more than she could bear. The crush of people, the incessant questions, and the denial of personal space all threatened to compromise her already weakened ability to control her emotions.

Unfortunately, the afternoon meetings were no easier. Captain Archer had tried to give them some breathing space but the powers that be would not be denied. Somehow, they didn't seem to fully comprehend the depth of the commanders' grief. After all, as Admiral Chin had callously said, "it wasn't as though she had really been their child." Only Archer's strong grip on his arm had kept Trip from decking the admiral and probably throwing away his career in the process. T'Pol had stood riveted to the spot, eyes wide, until Trip gently took her by the elbow and led her into the meeting room, all the while flooding their bond with thoughts of love and support to try and steady her.

The meetings lasted well into the evening. When the admirals had had enough, the couple still had to undergo debriefings with Starfleet Security. Even the local police tried to get a few moments of their time. Only Starfleet Intelligence remained ominously silent.

Throughout the day and into the night Trip never left her side. Though their bodies remained apart, she still clung to him. He knew she needed his steadfast presence to calm her and to divert attention away from her when things became too difficult. As the day progressed and her need became greater, Trip knew there was nothing he would not do for her, even if it meant knocking heads together to finally persuade people to leave her alone.

When their private thoughts and feelings had been poked and prodded for the last time, both Trip and T'Pol were exhausted. Admiral Gardner had reserved rooms for the senior staff of _Enterprise_ in Starfleet's officers' quarters. As the two commanders headed off to bed, Doctor Phlox slipped the young engineer a couple of sedatives to help them sleep.

When they reached T'Pol's room, Trip just managed to get her through the door before she collapsed into his arms. Caught off balance, her weight took them both down. As they sat sprawled on the floor, he held her trembling body, stroking her back and whispering soft reassuring words of endearment. He knew that she had been having difficulty controlling her emotions, but he was still surprised by how quickly her condition had deteriorated. It was obvious that he couldn't leave her alone.

Finally, he decided that she needed to get some sleep. "T'Pol," he murmured softly into her ear, "let me help you get ready for bed."

She tightened her grip on him and shook her head.

"We can't stay on the floor all night. What will Admiral Gardner think if we don't use that nice bed he provided for us, hmmm?" He sat up straighter and placing his hands on her upper arms gently pulled away from her. When he rose to his feet, he pulled her along with him. "That's my girl," he said as they stood up. As soon as she was on her feet, he swept her into his arms and carried her over to the bed.

He said a quiet word of thanks to Hoshi when he spotted T'Pol's duffel bag sitting at the foot of the bed. As he worked to get T'Pol out of her uniform and into her light blue pajamas, he was reminded of one his adolescent daydreams. He had devised what he felt was a foolproof five-point plan for quickly and efficiently undressing a beautiful woman. Trip grinned as he remembered the randy thoughts that usually followed that little scenario. How had he ever managed to survive puberty?

T'Pol didn't want to let go of him, but he managed to get away long enough to go over to the small beverage dispenser and get her a mug of hot tea. He quickly stripped off his own uniform down to his Starfleet-issue blue briefs. Then he picked up the tea and the hyposprays and carried them over to the nightstand.

Pulling back the covers, he climbed into bed next to her. She immediately moved over, frantically wrapping her arms around his bare chest. He put his left arm around her shoulders to steady her then picked up the mug. "How about a little tea, T'Pol?"

She turned her head in toward his chest, but remained silent.

"You said chamomile tea always seemed to help you relax," he tried again. "Come on, just try a sip." He squeezed her shoulder gently, and she reluctantly rolled over releasing her hold on him. He smiled reassuringly then handed the mug to her. He kept one hand over hers as he helped her guide the hot tea to her lips. She took a sip then looked at him, her soft brown eyes searching his face much as a child would when seeking parental approval. "That's good," Trip said reassuringly. "Just a little bit more. That's right." He kissed her forehead and, taking the mug from her, set it back on the nightstand.

She immediately wrapped her arms around him again. He could feel her shivering, even though he knew she wasn't cold. Maybe sleep would help.

"T'Pol, Doctor Phlox sent along a sedative for you," he said quietly as he stroked her back. "He thought you might need something to help you sleep." When he didn't get any response, he reached over and pressed the hypospray against her neck. He held her close to him, humming softly until he was sure that she was sound asleep.

He glanced over to the nightstand at the second hypospray, the one labeled "Tucker." He knew that his body needed rest, but he didn't want to risk going to sleep. Phlox's sedatives usually put him out like a light, but what if T'Pol needed him? Or worse still, what if his nightmares returned? Every time he shut his eyes, the only thing he saw was the face of an angelic infant with tiny pointed ears. It was hard enough to watch her die once. He couldn't stand to experience it over and over again. Not tonight. His throat tightened as he fought to keep back the tears.

Leaning over, he gently kissed the top of T'Pol's head. "At least I still have you," he whispered. "Please don't ever leave me, T'Pol."

In the early hours before dawn, T'Pol stirred and rolled over onto her back. She was still sleeping soundly, but Trip now felt free to slip away. Lying in the quiet room for hours, thinking of his dead child, thinking about Terra Prime, thinking about what this experience had done to T'Pol, had made him feel restless. Maybe some exercise would help.

He checked on T'Pol one more time to be sure she was resting comfortably before carefully slipping out of bed. It would have been helpful if Phlox had given him some indication as to how long the sedative would last. He didn't want T'Pol to wake up alone. He figured that he'd just have to depend on their bond to alert him when it was time to return.

He quickly decided that wearing his uniform would be a bad idea. It would attract too much attention. Fortunately, there was a connecting door between his room and T'Pol's. His duffle was waiting for him at the foot of the bed. He dressed quickly in black sweat pants, a Florida State sweatshirt and running shoes. Knowing that there would be a chill in the air, he was grateful to Malcolm for packing his brown leather bomber jacket and navy blue knit watch cap.

Before leaving, he rumpled the bed and spread around enough damp towels to give the room a lived-in look. They were already under intense scrutiny; they didn't need to provide more ammunition for the gossipmongers.

Once outside, he headed toward the waterfront. A heavy mist muffled the sounds of a city preparing to meet the coming dawn. He opened his mouth and exhaled, watching as his breath turned to vapor. He did it a second time and smiled as the remembered the time he spent with Malcolm in frigid Shuttlepod One. _No doubt about it_, he thought. _In the cold, T'Pol is definitely better company than Malcolm_.

As he walked, he focused on the sound of his shoes hitting the rain-slick pavement. For a while he counted his steps, but soon that seemed uncomfortably close to a death knell. After that, he kept his head down staring vacantly at the pavement before him. He forced himself to keep his mind perfectly blank. He gave no thought to a destination. Time was unimportant. By concentrating, he was able to lose himself in the rhythmic movement of his body and the white noise of the city around him.

When Trip next became aware of his surroundings, dawn had yielded to a fine new day. The mist had stopped, and the fog was beginning to dissipate. He needed coffee.

He looked around. Since he'd spent plenty of time in San Francisco before shipping out on _Enterprise_, he quickly got his bearings. He remembered that there was a small café about a block and a half from his present location, so he altered course. He was pleased to find that the rather drab little restaurant was still there. It was a typical mom and pop sort of place frequented strictly by the locals, who valued good food at a reasonable price.

As he walked in the door, the smell of bacon, coffee and maple syrup welcomed him. It was too bad that he didn't have an appetite. Under normal circumstances he would have taken one look at the menu and ordered one of everything.

There was still a chill in the air, so he figured he wouldn't be too conspicuous if he kept the collar of his jacket pulled up and his watch cap pulled low over his forehead. He didn't think he would be recognized in this out-of-the-way location, but he didn't want to tempt fate.

With breakfast in full swing, the café was buzzing, but a few empty tables still remained. One, back in a secluded corner, seemed tailor-made for him. He stopped at the beverage dispenser, entered his code to provide payment and walked away with a steaming mug of strong black coffee. The table was still empty so he took a seat with his back to the room. He sat huddled over the table, head down, the mug clasped tightly in both hands. The heat radiating from the mug warmed his hands, chilled by hours of exposure to the stiff breezes off the bay. He blew on his coffee then took a sip. The hot fluid burned its way down his throat, sending welcome warmth radiating throughout his body and filling him with a surprising sense of peace and tranquility.

As he raised the mug to his lips again, a shadow fell across the table. Instantly, Trip froze. He tightened his grip on the mug and continued to stare straight ahead. Maybe if he paid them no mind, whoever it was would take the hint and leave.

For several moments no one spoke, then a familiar voice said, "May I join you, Commander?"

Trip suddenly realized he was holding his breath and exhaled. He slowly turned his face upwards and met a pair of steely Vulcan eyes.

"Mornin', Ambassador," Trip replied. "Pull up a chair and take a load off."

Cocking an eyebrow expressively, Soval sat in the chair next to the young Starfleet officer. He, too, placed a mug on the table. Being inquisitive by nature, Trip stole a peek at the contents of the mug. Evidently, Soval was a tea drinker just like the other Vulcan in his life.

Tucker leaned back in his chair, pushed the cap back off his forehead and stretched his legs out in front of him. "I wasn't really looking for company this morning, but now that you're here, it's good to see you," he said quietly.

"Thank you, Commander. I'll take that as a compliment."

Trip couldn't help but grin. Throwing caution to the wind, he turned down his collar and unzipped his jacket. "I'm glad the leaders of your government came to their senses and reinstated you as Vulcan's Ambassador to Earth." He didn't turn his head but looked at Soval out of the corner of his eye. "I think Earth's gonna need good people to help her get her bearings after this mess with Terra Prime."

Soval stuck his hands up the opposite sleeves of his robe and sat back in his chair. "Without question, the events of the past week have been regrettable. The Vulcan government is indebted to Captain Archer and the crew of _Enterprise_ for defusing the situation. I understand special thanks should go to you for diverting the verteron array."

"Glad I could be of service," Trip said humbly. He rubbed a hand nervously across his forehead then sighed deeply. "Ya know just a couple of years ago I was boastin' to T'Pol about how humans had managed to abolish war and violence. Now we come home to this. It doesn't make any sense."

"The Xindi attack not only scarred Earth, it left an indelible mark on the people as well," Soval said as he studied the weary face of the young engineer. "The crew of _Enterprise_ paid a heavy price for restoring peace to the Expanse, but at least your fate was in your hands. The people here on Earth felt powerless in the face of the alien threat."

"The devastation was caused by aliens, so all aliens are bad," Trip said disgustedly.

"_Enterprise_ flew off on a voyage of exploration and within a few short years your world was ravaged by the Xindi. It is not surprising that humans are wary and frightened," Soval cautioned. "This is fertile ground for terrorist organizations like Terra Prime." The ambassador leaned forward slightly, seemingly intent on making a point. "You must be very careful, Commander, you and all the other members of your crew. You have only won the first battle in what may prove to be a lengthy fight against intolerance and hatred. You are all very public figures. One of you could be the target of the next attack."

Tucker shifted nervously in his chair. "Yeah, I know," he said quietly. "I think Starfleet's concerned, too. We've been ordered to head back out by the end of the week. I'm not sure if they're trying to protect us or just tryin' to get us the hell out of Dodge." He caught Soval's questioning look and smiled weakly. "Sometimes people seem to be kinda uncomfortable when we're around. We're a constant reminder of everything they're tryin' so hard to forget."

For a moment they sat in silence then Soval said softly, "Commander, I grieve with you in the loss of your child."

Trip stiffened as a wave of pain washed over him. His squeezed his eyes shut as he fought to keep control of his emotions. "Our child," he choked out softly. His hands pressed together so tightly that his knuckles showed white. "Her name was Elizabeth, ya know."

"Yes, I am aware of that fact." Soval continued to keep his voiced pitched low.

"She deserved better than to be a science experiment for some filthy fascist bastards." Trip's lower lip trembled slightly. He grabbed his mug and drank deeply, trying to give himself time to recover his composure. When he was finished, he slammed the empty mug back down on the table.

Soval sat quietly, giving the commander all the time he needed.

Trip knew that the ambassador was subtly monitoring the room to ensure that they weren't attracting undue attention, and he appreciated that. He used one of the breathing techniques that T'Pol had taught him to try and rein in his emotions. He didn't want to make Soval uncomfortable, and he certainly didn't want to draw curious glances from any of the other diners. When he felt able to continue he muttered, "Sorry."

"There is no need to apologize." Soval stared intently at the young commander. "How is T'Pol?"

Trip sighed and sat back. He carefully locked away his memories of his daughter and focused on the subtle signals he was receiving from T'Pol through their bond. "She's still asleep," he said finally. "Yesterday was kind of tough on her." When Soval didn't respond, Tucker looked up. The Vulcan was scrutinizing him with one eyebrow raised almost up to his hairline.

"Say, how'd you find me?" Tucker asked suddenly. "Even I didn't know where I was going. Don't tell me you're part bloodhound."

"I caught sight of you an hour ago, Commander. I've been following you ever since."

"Followin' me? Why'd you want to do that? I'm not gonna go for a one-way stroll into the ocean, if that's what's worryin' ya."

"Vulcans do not worry, Commander. That is a human affliction."

"Yeah," Tucker laughed bitterly. "Don't I know it."

They sat quietly for a brief while, content in each other's company. The café was still busy, but slowly the crowd began to thin out. Through the large picture windows in the front of the café, they watched the airborne antics of the seagulls and the rhythmic sway of the trees propelled by a stiff breeze off the bay.

Finally Soval stirred.

Tucker turned in his direction in anticipation that their conversation was about to resume. He was surprised that the Vulcan had hung around this long. Maybe there was something he wanted to say; however, Trip was hard-pressed to imagine what that might be.

Soval cleared his throat. "I have been unable to express my regrets to T'Pol over the dissolution of her marriage."

Tucker's eyebrows rose. Now that was a surprise. He wasn't quite sure how to respond: loyal friend, frustrated secret lover, disinterested bystander or ignorant colleague. He gave ignorant colleague some serious consideration, but after the furor surrounding the funeral he figured that wouldn't fly. He figured he'd have to go with loyal friend.

"Yep, it was too bad." He cautioned himself to be careful what he said. "T'Pol didn't seem to be too upset by the break-up, though."

"You attended the marriage."

"Yes," Trip said warily. This chat was shaping up to be more dangerous than a spin through a Romulan mine field. "My home was destroyed in the Xindi attack. T'Pol invited me to go home with her so I wouldn't have to spend my shore leave alone. Koss seemed like a nice enough guy."

"Koss' family has a great deal of influence on Vulcan. They were not pleased that things turned out as they did. Evidently Koss decided to end the marriage when he discovered that he was unable to bond with T'Pol." Soval cast a questioning look at Tucker. "Were you aware that Vulcans bond with their mates?"

Trip shifted restlessly. "Um…bond?" _Think fast, Tucker_, his inner voice prodded. "Well, um…let's see. T'Pol might have mentioned something once awhile back. That trip to Vulcan was kinda long and we did talk a bit. You know…exchanged cultural information…," his voice began to peter out, "…that sort of thing."

"It is vital that a Vulcan bond with his spouse," Soval said firmly. "Mates must be completely united in both mind and body in order to perpetuate the species. A bond is a sharing of the life force, the essence that is each of us. It is two halves becoming one: shared thoughts, shared feelings, shared lives. Do humans experience a similar joining with their mates?"

"Um…" The comfort level on this conversation was diminishing rapidly. Trip could only hope that it was the temperature of the room that had brought out the first beads of sweat on his forehead. "Actually, no. Our bodies are joined…um…you know…uh…in the act of sex, but our minds…no. We keep our thoughts pretty much to ourselves. It's hard enough to be married to a woman without her knowin' what you're thinkin' all the time."

"Such cultural differences would make it extremely difficult for a successful union to occur between a Vulcan and a human. A bond would have to develop and, as you said, that is unheard of for your people." Soval stopped momentarily and adjusted the left sleeve of his robe. "It is probably just as well in these troubled times that our two species are not compatible."

Trip nodded dumbly. He needed to respond, but he had absolutely no idea what to say.

"Of course humans are not alone in their need for some small measure of privacy in their lives," Soval continued. "Even bonded couples sometimes need to be able to block the thoughts of their mate. Fortunately there are techniques that enable us to shield our thoughts from one another."

"No kidding." Tucker was suddenly very interested in the direction this conversation was taking. "You can shield your thoughts? Is it hard to do?" _Watch it_, he chided himself. "Um…I mean for Vulcans. Is it hard for Vulcans to learn?"

"It takes practice and concentration, but it is not difficult," Soval said evenly.

"And you'd be willin' to tell me about this as a kinda cultural exchange?"

"Yes," Soval assured him. "If you have any other questions about Vulcans, I would be happy to answer those as well…in keeping with the new spirit of cooperation between our species, of course."

"Well, I guess that would be okay," Tucker said slowly. "T'Pol keeps tellin' me that I should spend more time tryin' to understand other species and less time tryin' to tell them what to do. This would show her that I really am interested in learning more about her people." With his right elbow propped on the table, the engineer rested his chin on his hand. "So how does this shield business work?"

For one brief moment Tucker thought he saw one side of Soval's lips curve upwards, but then he dismissed the idea. Vulcan's don't smile, he reminded himself. He hadn't even been able to wangle one out of T'Pol.

The rest of the conversation with Soval was informative to say the least. Tucker wasn't sure how much the ambassador suspected and how much he actually knew, but at this point he didn't really care. The Vulcan was giving him some very powerful tools that could make his life and T'Pol's life a whole lot easier. For that and for his obvious display of friendship, Trip was truly grateful.

Soval was answering a question about the importance of meditation when Trip suddenly shifted nervously in his chair. "I don't mean to interrupt, Ambassador," he said anxiously, "but I think I need to get back. I don't want T'Pol wakin' up alone, and it's a good twenty minute walk back to the room."

Soval took a deep breath. "I understand, Commander. Please tell T'Pol of my concern for her welfare. The coming weeks may be difficult for her."

"Thank you, Soval. I'll be sure to tell her," Tucker said as he abruptly stood to leave. He stuck out his hand and to his great surprise Soval not only took his hand but shook it in a way that was very human. "And thank you for takin' the time to talk to me. I appreciate it. Good-bye, Ambassador." Trip barely heard Soval echo his farewell as he strode out of the building.

As soon as he was out of the café, Tucker started to run. At first it was closer to a jog, but it wasn't long before he picked up the pace. He was thoroughly winded as he ran into Starfleet's officers' quarters. As he shot down the corridor to T'Pol's room he made a mental note to start working out more. He was definitely out of shape.

He entered the code and the door opened. He threw off his cap and jacket as he walked across the room. He kicked off his shoes, pulled his sweatshirt over his head then climbed into bed next to T'Pol. She had begun to stir, but she was not yet fully awake.

"Good mornin', sleepyhead," he said softly. He leaned over and ran one finger softly across her cheek. Her eyes opened slowly and looked aimlessly about the room. Any hope Tucker had for an improvement in her mental state vanished when she suddenly whimpered and lunged for him. She clung to him with such desperation that he knew he had no choice but to get her back to _Enterprise_ right away.

His sedative was still on the nightstand. He hated to knock her out again, but he couldn't think of any other way to get her back to the ship without attracting a lot of unwanted attention. The hypospray hissed against her neck, and she immediately relaxed against him.

Sighing, Trip put in a call to the captain. Archer was just preparing to leave for a briefing on efforts to ferret out the remaining members of Terra Prime, but he quickly assured Trip that he would take care of Starfleet. There would be no more meetings, no more questions, and no more nosey admirals. T'Pol was all that really mattered, and they both knew it.

Tucker spent the next ten minutes tracking down Phlox. Together they arranged for T'Pol's transfer to _Enterprise_. It was done discreetly and within an hour all three of them were back aboard ship with no one the wiser. With the ship in orbit and most of the crew still on shore leave, Trip knew that he could devote himself completely to helping T'Pol.

The next couple of weeks weren't easy. T'Pol's runaway emotions placed great demands on both of them. But, looking back, these were unquestionably some of the best weeks of Trip's life. She needed him, shared with him and cared for him in ways that were previously unimaginable. Through their bond, she projected her rampant emotions onto him, and he helped her to cope. Yes, he paid a price, but it was a trifle compared to the distress she was experiencing. Besides, it filled him with joy because it was something that he and he alone could do for her.

Against his better judgment, he slowly allowed himself to think about the future they could share together. Phlox had told him that it would be possible for a human and a Vulcan to have a child. Elizabeth had died, but there could be other children for the two of them to cherish and love. When he thought about having T'Pol and the family he'd always wanted, he was almost overcome by the sheer wonder and glory of it.

But then everything began to change. Without warning, T'Pol started to shut him out again.

One minute they were as close as two people could possibly be without simply merging into a single entity, and then suddenly that special intimacy was gone. He tried to talk to her about it but it did no good. As she began to gain greater control over her emotions, T'Pol the Stoic Vulcan returned with a vengeance. Oh, she was grateful for what he had done for her, but she expressed her thanks in a cold, impersonal way that set his teeth on edge. He'd laid his soul bare for her, done things that he wouldn't have done for another living being, and this was the thanks he got. How could he have misread the situation so badly? What could he possibly have done to drive her away?

Slowly, all of the violence, betrayal and death of the past few years began to take a toll on him. With every passing day, he was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his grief bottled up. People had come to mean pain to him. Where he had once been open, optimistic and gregarious, he now craved solitude. He had his work and that was enough for him. It was safe, impersonal and made few demands on him. He could see the looks of concern in everyone's eyes, and he hated it. He didn't want their pity. But no matter how hard he fought against it, his friends kept trying.

Malcolm had pestered him for weeks to go to movie night. "It will do you good to get out and be with people," he'd said over and over until Trip was tired of hearing it. Who would have thought that under that stiff British exterior lurked a damned Pollyanna. Finally, Trip agreed to go for no other reason than to shut Malcolm up. The man was relentless.

The movie, a period black and white classic entitled "A Night to Remember," had been selected by Ensign Mayweather. A child of space, he was endlessly fascinated by all aspects of life on Earth, and besides who could resist the saga of a doomed ship sailing off to meet her fate. Reed was a bit upset when he discovered that the film dealt with the sinking of the RMS Titanic. Sinking ships and cold murky waters were not favorite subjects for the lieutenant, but Malcolm made it clear that he would not be dissuaded.

So, the two of them went to the movie and, in keeping with the theme of the picture, it turned into a disaster.

The evening before movie night, Trip was ordered to help T'Pol increase the range on a new communication buoy. As he checked out the wiring, Trip surreptitiously watched her. He still ached to be with her. Maybe he'd pressed too hard, driving her away. If he'd just taken things slower…

"Please hand me the microcaliper, Commander," T'Pol cut into his reverie.

He caught her eye as he placed the caliper into her outstretched hand. She immediately pressed her lips together and looked away. "Thank you," she said coolly.

Once again the silence rose oppressively like an invisible wall between them. He wanted to batter it down and sweep her away to live with him forever, but he knew that as soon as this wall crumbled another one would take its place. He also knew that he had to keep trying.

"T'Pol," Trip said hesitantly.

The Vulcan raised her lovely face to look at him.

He swallowed hard. "I thought I'd take in the movie tomorrow night." His eyes remained locked on her face, trying to judge her reaction to his invitation. "I don't suppose you'd like to go with me. Not as a date," he clarified quickly, "just as friends. We are still friends…aren't we?" He tried without much success to remove the plaintive tone from his voice.

A look of supreme sadness passed over her face, but in an instant it was gone. "I'm afraid that will not be possible," she said quietly.

"There has to be more to life than work, T'Pol," he said pleadingly, "at least that's what everybody keeps tellin' me. Come with me. It'll be fun. We could both use a little time to relax."

"I'm sorry, Commander, but no."

"Okay," Trip dipped his head in defeat. "Just thought I'd ask. I miss you, ya know."

T'Pol placed the caliper on the work surface next to the buoy. "It's getting late. Perhaps we should continue this some other time," she said, her voice tight. Instead of waiting for him to respond, she turned abruptly and walked out of the room.

As Trip watched her leave, he was filled with a sense of utter hopelessness. _Work_! a little voice shouted in his head. _You need to work_. With a sigh, he picked up the caliper. It was well past dinner time, but he wasn't really hungry. He knew that he'd continue to work until the project was completed regardless of how long it took. If the modifications were finished, at least he wouldn't have to work side by side with T'Pol for awhile.

The next evening Malcolm showed up in engineering to make sure that Trip didn't try to back out. Tucker pulled out every excuse: he had too much work to do, he wasn't really in the mood, he needed a shower and didn't want to offend anyone. But Reed had an answer for everything. Finally, with a total disregard for the privilege of rank, Malcolm grabbed Trip's arm and pulled and prodded until they both ended up in the mess hall.

Trip couldn't help but smile at the greetings he received as he walked through the door. He could see the Captain in a chair at the front of the room deep in conversation with Doctor Phlox. Malcolm waved to Hoshi and pulled Trip toward the back of the room where she and Travis had saved them a couple of chairs. Trip took the chair on the end but not before grabbing another chair and setting it next to his. He still held out hope that T'Pol would change her mind and join him.

He'd almost given up when she walked into the room. Her eyes met his, and the rest of the room fell away. Malcolm continued on with the story he was relating, but Trip no longer heard a word he said. He took hold of the back of the chair next to his and started to rise, but just then she turned away. As he watched in stunned silence, she walked across the room and sat down next to the captain. Archer turned and leaned in close to her. Tucker was too far away to hear what was said, but he could read body language. The captain had been waiting for her. This couldn't be happening.

"Trip," Malcolm whispered anxiously as he tugged on the commander's arm. "Trip, the movie's starting. You need to sit down."

Tucker turned in Reed's direction, but nothing the lieutenant said seemed to make any sense. Malcolm tugged on his sleeve again, and Trip finally sank back down in his chair.

"Trip, are you all right?"

Tucker watched as patches of light and dark played over the backs of the people seated in front of him. T'Pol sat unmoving in the chair next to Archer. _How could she do this to me_? the little voice in his head shouted. _I don't deserve to be treated with such contempt_. Trip squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips together. Nothing made sense anymore. When his eyes opened they went to her, not to the screen. He tried to reach her through their bond, but her cold, impersonal barrier was firmly in place. _This was no good_, he thought as he shook his head. He had to get out before he said or did something he would regret. He couldn't sit and watch her with another man, especially one he'd always considered to be a friend.

"Commander," Malcolm whispered frantically as Trip rose and strode purposefully out of the mess hall.

Tucker grabbed the turbolift and never slowed down until he reached the sanctuary of engineering. He needed to work. There was no question of sleep tonight.

The next morning he reached out to T'Pol once again through their bond. When he felt her start to block his thoughts, he raised his own shields. Since he and Soval had had their talk in that little San Francisco café, Trip had been diligently practicing the shielding techniques that the Vulcan had taught him, and he'd become quite proficient. At first, he'd practiced so that he could protect T'Pol from some of his stronger emotions. Later, he tried to block his thoughts so that she wouldn't know how deeply she'd hurt him. It had been more demanding than Soval had led him to believe, but he was not the type of man who ran from hard work. Finally, with his shields in place, he began to feel as though he once again had a little control over his own life.

Unfortunately, as the days and weeks passed he began to realize that this so-called control was only an illusion. He had no appetite. He wasn't sleeping. He'd work for days at a time without rest, and when he finally did fall asleep from sheer exhaustion, he was soon awakened by horrible dreams. Night after night he was forced to watch as people he cared for died. Each of them begged him for help that he was powerless to give, and it was destroying him.

He knew that his insomnia was starting to affect his work. Fatigue was clouding his mind and warping his judgment, but he couldn't go to Phlox. He knew the doctor was just waiting for an excuse to get his hands on him. He'd tried on numerous occasions to entice the commander into sickbay, always stopping just short of ordering him submit to treatment. As long as Trip could function, he knew he could keep Phlox at arms length. He wasn't sick, he told himself. He was just tired. If he could get rid of some of the stress, he'd be okay.

With Phlox out of the picture there was only one other option open to him. He had to try to see T'Pol. Neuropressure had saved him in the Expanse. Maybe it could do so again.

It took him three days to get up the courage to go to her quarters. When he finally did, the results were disastrous. She interpreted his plea for help as a request for sex. After all they'd been through together, with all she knew about him as a man and an officer in Starfleet, how could she make that assumption? Did she really think so little of him?

When he left her, he returned to his quarters. Throughout the night he lay in the dark and tried to sort things out. As the time approached for him to start his shift, he knew one thing for sure. This was the last time she was going to break his heart. He would work with her when necessary, but he would never allow her to get close to him emotionally again. He wasn't going to let her turn him inside out and make his life a living hell. He deserved better than that. He was a man, not some weak besotted fool. Whatever they had between them was over. He had to accept that. It was time to move on.

Trip sat up and turned so that his feet hit the floor. He scrubbed a hand across his eyes then levered himself up off of the bed. He needed a shower. Five minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He put on a clean uniform and, returning to the bathroom, ran a comb through his wet hair.

He had to go to work.

He stopped for a moment and stared at the sorry-looking man in the mirror. _When did "want to" turn into "have to"_? he asked himself. _When did work become an obligation instead of a pleasure_? During his first few years on _Enterprise_, every day offered something new and exciting. Now he worked to forget. He pushed himself relentlessly because it was the only way he could hold back all of the misery, failure and death that threatened to overwhelm him. There was no longer any joy or any sense of accomplishment with a job well done. There was only fear.

He reached up and rubbed a shaky hand across the stubble on his face. He really should shave. If he went to work sloppy he knew that it would set a bad example for the rest of the crew, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to care. He sighed and dropped his hand back down to his side. At least his body and his uniform were clean; he'd managed to do that. He could shave later when he wasn't so tired. If he could just get through the day, maybe tonight would be better. Maybe he could finally get some sleep. Wonderful dreamless sleep. With that hope to buoy him, he turned away from the haggard face in the mirror to confront another day.

- - - - - - - - - -

Trip reached up and rubbed his hand across his chin. Weeks had passed and he somehow couldn't muster the energy to always stay clean shaven. _Tomorrow_, he promised himself. _I'll do it tomorrow_.

He had intended to return to engineering after he left the mess hall, but he was so tired that he knew there was no point. If he made a mistake that caused damage to _Enterprise_ or injured one of the crew, how could he live with himself? No, he had to try to get a few hours of sleep.

He dragged himself through the door to his quarters. The padd with next month's maintenance schedule was still in his left hand. No more work, he promised himself. As soon as he walked over and tossed the padd on his desk, he noticed that the message light on his monitor was blinking. A part of him wanted to ignore the damned light, but he was the chief engineer. It could be something important that required his immediate attention.

The first message was from Captain Hernandez, who said that she was just checking in to see how he was doing. As she spoke about _Columbia_ and their latest mission, one message came through loud and clear. She would welcome him back as chief engineer in a heart beat. As he closed the message, he grew pensive. It was worth consideration. He had run away from T'Pol and _Enterprise_ once before. Maybe this time he could run toward a whole new future and put his problems behind him forever.

He pulled up the second message. It came from a large interplanetary corporation that had been after him for the past month to accept a position as general manager in charge of research and development. In the next few years, the company was preparing to upgrade their fleet of cargo vessels so that they would be bigger and faster than anything currently available. The message was from the company's CEO, and he was selling hard. In appreciation of Trip's experience and his stature in his profession, they were willing to offer him an obscene amount of money and total control. It was very tempting. Maybe there really was more to life than Starfleet.

_No_, he cautioned himself. He couldn't think about it now. You don't make life changing decisions when you're dead on your feet. He should just turn off his monitor and try to get some sleep.

His finger hovered over the power button. He wanted to press it, to make the screen go dark, but something in him seemed determined to prevent it. So what if the final message was from his parents. He'd deleted all of their other messages without reading them. He could do it again. He hesitated then drew his hand back. But wasn't that the act of a coward. He couldn't just keep deleting them from his life without giving them a chance to make amends. Maybe this message was an apology. Maybe they wanted to tell him that their membership in Terra Prime had been nothing more than a terrible mistake. He balled his hands into fists. He craved their love and support like a starving man craves sustenance. Maybe just this once it would be okay. He opened his right hand then slowly stretched his index finger forward. Taking a deep breath, he brought up the message from home.

The weathered face of Charles Tucker, Jr. filled the screen. In that instant Trip smiled. He suddenly felt a rush of warmth and contentment, the kind of comfort that children can only derive from their parents. His dad was his hero. He'd spent his whole life wanting to be just like him, trying to live up to the high standards his father had set. Trip fought to keep the tears back; he missed his dad so much.

His dad looked tanned and fit. Dressed casually in a navy striped short-sleeved shirt, he had a few more wrinkles than Trip remembered, but that was to be expected. A lot had happened in the past few years.

"Hi there, son," his father said in the same hard-edged voice that Trip remembered so fondly. "I guess I can't blame you for not takin' our calls, but I've got some things that need to be said and by golly I'm gonna get it done."

Trip shifted restlessly in his chair. He wanted this…no…he needed this to be a positive message. Please couldn't just one thing in his life go right? His brow wrinkled and he pressed his lips together in a thin line as his father plunged ahead.

"From the time you were just a little tadpole, we've always been honest with one another. You know that I love ya, and I know you've got feelings for your Mom and me. We don't want that to change, but we also aren't apologizin' for what we've done. Joinin' Terra Prime was the right thing to do. We've got to protect what's ours. Paxton and his people understood that.

"You weren't here when those Xindi bastards came and destroyed our home. If your Mama and I hadn't been attending a conference in Seattle, we'd be dead, too. You're out there flyin' around from planet to planet – and more power to ya – but you've got to understand that this is the only world we've got. If we don't stand firm and protect Earth nobody else will. It's us against them."

Trip sat numbly staring at the screen. He knew he should delete the message, but there was still one small flicker of hope that his dad would say something that would allow him to reconcile with his parents. Unfortunately, he knew that once his father was set on a course, it was almost impossible for him to deviate from it.

His father leaned forward and stared intently at Trip. "It was aliens that took your sister from us, aliens that destroyed our home and the town you grew up in. They terrorized our people and robbed us of any chance to ever feel safe or secure again. And now we hear that you're consortin' with some damn Vulcan!"

Trip froze, his eyes riveted on his father's face.

"Didn't your sister's death mean anything to you? She was burnt to a crisp and her ashes were blown away with the rest of the debris. They didn't even leave us a handful of dust to bury. Aliens did that. That Vulcan of yours and all her kind are just as responsible for Lizzie's death as those bastard Xindi…"

Trip slammed his hand down on the delete button. Shaking with fury, he jumped up, knocking his chair over. He started to pace, but stopped and swung around to stare accusingly at the monitor. How could a man as decent as his father spew such malicious filth? How could he ever respect his parents again? How could he continue to love them? Yes, his parents had lost a child, but so had he. Terra Prime had killed his baby! They killed his Elizabeth and the sons of bitches were proud of it! A howl of intense pain burst from his lips.

Enraged, he stalked across the room, grabbed a picture of his family and threw it at the monitor with every ounce of strength he possessed. The monitor shattered on impact sending sparks flying in all directions. He threw his hands up to his face and dug his fingers into his flesh as if he was trying to claw all of the evil words from his memory. He had to get away. He had to find someplace without people, someplace where he could hide from the cold, dead eyes of lost souls. Before he was fully aware of what he was doing, he was across the room and out the door. Maybe if he ran far enough and fast enough he could put some distance between himself and the hell that his life had become.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

CHAPTER 6: T'POL

People were watching her. She could feel their eyes on her, trying to break through her stoic façade and peer into her innermost soul. Curious judgmental strangers who only wanted to pick her life apart and publicly strip her of the last vestiges of privacy and anonymity.

Commander T'Pol sat unmoving in the crowded courtroom. The only sounds she heard were the voice of Captain Jonathan Archer as he gave his testimony and the frantic pounding of her own heart.

In the weeks following Terra Prime's aborted terrorist attack, she was painted by some as heroic, a devoted mother fighting for her doomed child. But to others, a very vocal and vitriolic group, she was that Vulcan whore, the mother of a half-breed monster, an alien siren who tried to lure a young Starfleet officer to his doom. She despised it all: the clamor, the intrusiveness, the publicity. Her only thought was to return to _Enterprise_ and escape once again into the limitlessness of space.

Four months to the day after the very public death of Susan Khouri, the senior officers of _Enterprise_ were called to testify at the trial of John Frederick Paxton and the other leaders of Terra Prime. Because of the high-profile nature of the trial and the on-going threat of public unrest, Starfleet insisted that the crew of _Enterprise_ would only be available to give testimony for two days. Since answers to any remaining questions would have to be obtained via subspace transmission, both the prosecutor and the attorneys for the defense made an effort to streamline their cases, but the intrusive nature of their inquiries still remained.

The trial was held at the "new" Criminal Court Building in San Francisco. The structure, though almost 50 years old, was still imposing – six stories of glass, granite and steel. The main courtroom occupied the entire north end of the second floor. The judge's bench stood at the front of the room set against the backdrop of a magnificent curved green marble wall. A semicircular barrier separated the spectators from the tables for the prosecution and the defense, giving the room the look of a vast oval. The jury box occupied a place of prominence on the east end of the room.

Yesterday, amid a swirl of media attention, Doctor Phlox, Lieutenant Reed, and Ensigns Mayweather and Sato had walked into the courtroom to take center stage. As was to be expected, they gave their testimony in a straightforward, professional manner. Phlox described the steps he took to unravel the mystery of the hair Susan Khouri had thrust into T'Pol's hands. He also explained how the results of Khouri's autopsy had led to the discovery of Terra Prime's activities at the Moon's Orpheus mining colony. Reed, Mayweather, and Sato recounted their roles in the mission to free their fellow crewmen and prevent the destruction of Starfleet Command by the verteron array.

But through it all, there was no doubt in anybody's mind that this was just the warm up for the main event, when Archer, Tucker and T'Pol took the stand.

When court convened on the second day, Commander Charles Tucker was the first officer called to testify. He gave his answers in a clipped, succinct manner, yet he somehow managed to paint a compelling picture of his capture, confinement and rescue. Through it all, he was the consummate Starfleet professional. He gave no hint of the inner torment that had plagued him over the past months until they flashed a picture of his infant daughter on the large viewscreen situated on the west wall of the courtroom. Instantly, all color drained from his face and his body sagged visibly. For a moment, T'Pol feared that he was going to break down, but he pulled himself together and finished answering their questions. His temper flared only once, when the lead defense attorney forced him to admit under oath that he and the Vulcan first officer had had an intimate relationship.

When he stepped down from the witness stand his eyes met hers. The guilt and misery she saw there made her clench her hands and look away.

She was afraid for him. Over the past few months he had become so emotionally brittle, withdrawing from life, working almost nonstop. For such a man, a man whose driving need for privacy came close to matching her own, this was an humiliating and painful experience. Keeping her head rigidly still, T'Pol peeked out of the corner of her eye to check on him. He sat hunched over with his forearms resting on his knees and his hands gripped tightly together in front of him. She wanted to reach out to him, but before she could find a discreet way to comfort him, she was called to testify.

T'Pol took the stand with all of the dignity that her Vulcan heritage had instilled in her. The prosecutor began his questioning by asking her to recount her capture and confinement at the hands of Terra Prime. When she revealed that Paxton suffered from Taggart's Syndrome and that he was using Rigelian gene therapy, alien medical knowledge, to treat himself, it created such a furor that the judge threatened to clear the courtroom. As the judge pounded his gavel and resolutely called for order, she glanced over at Paxton. His lips were pulled back in a snarl that left no question as to the depth of his hatred for her. She found his malice strangely satisfying.

T'Pol thought she was prepared to deal with the inevitable questions about her daughter, but she was not. It took all the self-control at her disposal to talk about Elizabeth's life. When the questioning forced her to relive her daughter's death, it was too much. Her head began to swim as emotion started to overcome reason. But just as her control began to disintegrate, he was there.

When she felt Trip drop his mental shields, she looked toward him. His gentle smile, a smile meant for her alone, was a promise that everything would be all right. Regardless of his own distress, he was still able to send her the strength and support she needed to continue. After taking a deep, though shaky breath, she forged on, briefly describing Elizabeth's memorial service and the respect shown to the infant by the alien delegates to the conference.

Unfortunately, when the prosecutor turned the questioning over to the defense, her ordeal began in earnest. Many of the questions were not only intrusive, but distasteful. Despite protests from the prosecution, the defense quizzed her relentlessly on her so-called affair with Commander Tucker. She answered each question carefully, revealing as little as possible, but it still left her feeling violated. Through it all she clung to Trip as though he were the last safe harbor in a storm-tossed sea.

When she left the stand her legs felt wobbly. She knew that she couldn't allow herself to fall, not in front of Paxton and his henchmen. That resolve spurred her on. She focused all of her energy on moving forward, putting one foot in front of the other.

She was relieved when she managed to reach her seat without incident. As she sat down, Trip scooted over slightly to give her a little extra room. His eyes searched her face, trying to gauge her condition. For a moment, she allowed her eyes to meet his, but then she quickly forced herself to look away. She wanted nothing more than to collapse into his arms, but they were on public display. Every look, every gesture was being scrutinized by an eager and insensitive audience.

Instead, she turned her attention to Jonathan Archer, who was the last to take the stand. At first, the questioning was predictable. How did you learn about the existence of Terra Prime? What steps did you take when you discovered that Commanders T'Pol and Tucker were captured? Finally, the captain was asked about the attempted rescue of his crewmen, and his efforts to stop the firing of the verteron array.

"Commander Tucker had started toward the control panel to disable the verteron array when he was shot," Archer said in a steady, authoritative voice. "In the ensuing fire fight, Lieutenant Reed was also incapacitated. Ensign Mayweather and Doctor Phlox managed to remove him from the room while I went to assist Commander Tucker. I was able to deactivate the array, but within moments Paxton activated it once again. Paxton and I struggled. A large window that had been damaged by weapons fire shattered, significantly reducing the level of oxygen in the room. I tried to stop the array from firing, but it was impossible."

"What prevented the weapon from destroying Starfleet Command?" the prosecutor asked.

"Commander Tucker regained consciousness. He couldn't prevent the weapon from firing, but he was able to change the coordinates so that the weapon discharged harmlessly into San Francisco Bay."

"What did you do next, Captain?"

"I ordered MACOs from _Enterprise_ to transport down and secure the scene, taking the members of Terra Prime into custody. I personally made sure that Mr. Paxton was detained."

"At this point, your men were able to free Commander T'Pol and the infant. Is that correct?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, Commander T'Pol informed us that the baby was dying." Archer's voice remained firm, but he looked anxiously at his two senior officers. "Doctor Phlox quickly examined the baby and found some cause for concern. He immediately transported back to _Enterprise_ to prepare sickbay for the infant's arrival. During the short trip back to _Enterprise_ in Shuttlepod One, Commander T'Pol monitored the baby's condition and relayed reports to Doctor Phlox."

When Archer mentioned the baby's weakened condition, T'Pol's anxiety level spiked. Sensing her distress, Trip impulsively offered his hand to her. She hesitated for only a split second before grasping it tightly. Their eyes did not meet, but T'Pol welcomed his touch. No matter how distant they became in their day-to-day lives, she knew he would always be there for her, and she for him.

"Doctor Phlox testified yesterday that he was unable to save the infant's life because of a flaw in the genetic code employed by Terra Prime's scientists. Commander T'Pol testified today that Mr. Paxton implied that medical care for the infant would be useless. Did Mr. Paxton say anything which would lead you to believe that the baby might not survive?"

Archer's eyes were riveted on T'Pol and Trip. "Mr. Paxton was returned to _Enterprise_ under guard. I accompanied him. When we were in the shuttlepod, Mr. Paxton informed me that caring for the baby was a waste of time. To quote him, 'No just God would allow a Vulcan-Human monstrosity to survive. That thing stands for the corruption of our culture by an alien influence that is working toward the total destruction of Earth.'" The captain, anger visibly swelling within him, leaned forward and, gripping the front of the witness stand, locked eyes with Paxton. "Having seen her, having seen the way her parents interacted with her, I find that impossible to believe. That poor, innocent child was the real victim in all of this."

The cross-examination by the defense was surprisingly brief. As soon as Archer left the witness stand, the judge brought down his gavel and court was adjourned. Instantly there was chaos. People pressed forward trying to gain access to the three officers. Some wanted interviews, while others only wanted to hurl curses their way or enthusiastically offer them a pat on the back. The attention was clearly focused on Trip and T'Pol. Everyone wanted to touch, to get close to the couple that had produced a Vulcan-Human hybrid.

In the face of the surging crowd, T'Pol shrank back against Trip. With no concern for public perception, he put his arms protectively around her, placing his body between her and the crowd. She heard him yelling at people, but the words no longer had any meaning. She thought she saw Captain Archer and Lieutenant Reed standing close-by trying to clear a path for them, but everything around her was beginning to blur. The smells, the noise, and the tumultuous emotions were intolerable.

They'd managed to take only a few, halting steps forward when Starfleet Security arrived. They immediately surrounded the _Enterprise_ officers and opened a path for them to a secondary door leading out of the courtroom. Trip put his arm firmly around T'Pol's waist and pulled her forward. As soon as they were away from prying eyes, he swept her into his arms and held her close. Overwhelmed, she numbly threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.

A member of Starfleet Security led the group down a back stairway to the main floor. When they reached the door leading to the landing area outside the courthouse, the group came to a halt. The security officer, a willowy, brunette with deep blue eyes, turned toward Archer. "Lieutenant Renshaw, sir," she said in a clipped manner that left no doubt that she was very good at her job. "Please wait here. As soon as we've checked the area, I'll give you the all clear to board your shuttlepod." When Archer nodded she turned and headed out of the door.

Meanwhile, Phlox pressed a hypospray to T'Pol's neck. As soon as the medication entered her body, she began to feel some of the stress and anxiety melt away.

While they waited, Malcolm found a chair and brought it over. "Here, Trip," he said, "maybe the commander would like to sit down." Instead of releasing T'Pol, however, Tucker only shook his head and tightened his grip.

Archer walked over and stood in front of them. "Come on, Trip," he said quietly, "Phlox needs to check on T'Pol." When Tucker made no effort to move, the captain continued, "You can put her down now. It's all right. No one is going to hurt her."

"They've already hurt her," Trip said huskily. "She's fine where she is."

Just as Archer was preparing to argue with the commander, T'Pol whispered, "Trip." When he continued to stare at Archer, she reached up and touched his cheek, turning his face towards her. "Trip, I'm feeling better. Please put me down."

Tucker stared at her for a moment with an intensity that she had never seen before. Finally, he reluctantly leaned over and placed her on the chair. He immediately took up a position directly behind her. As he pressed the neural nodes in her neck and shoulders to help her relax, she leaned her head back against his body. Such blatant physical contact in a public place would generally be unthinkable, but under the circumstances, with all she'd just endured, she found his touch very comforting.

The doctor wasted no time pointing his medical scanner at T'Pol. "The medication I gave you should allow you to relax, Commander, but it also might make you sleepy."

T'Pol nodded. "Thank you, Doctor. I am feeling calmer, more…in control."

Phlox smiled then turned the scanner in Commander Tucker's direction. Frowning, he said, "You are both off duty until further notice."

T'Pol felt Trip's fingers dig into her shoulders.

"This is non-negotiable," Phlox said firmly. "When we reach _Enterprise_, you will both make a brief stop at sickbay so that I can perform a more thorough examination. Then you will return to your quarters."

"Now wait just a minute…" Tucker started to argue.

"No work. No sneaking down to engineering. No 24-hour days spent working on reports and simulations. You will rest."

"But…"

"Is that understood…" Phlox looked back and forth from Trip to T'Pol. "…by both of you?"

"Yes," T'Pol whispered, but Trip was not convinced.

When Trip started to argue again, the captain grabbed his arm and turned him so that they stood face to face. "Is there a problem, Commander?"

Trip looked away sullenly. His jaw muscles worked furiously as he tried to control his anger. "I don't need to rest," he said shakily. "I need to work. Why won't you let me do my job?"

"You can go back to work as soon as Doctor Phlox gives you the go ahead," Archer said firmly. "The sooner you relax and get some rest the sooner you'll be back in engineering." When Trip didn't respond he continued, "I'll order you to sickbay and strap you down, if I have to. Now are you going to do what Phlox tells you?"

Trip refused to make eye contact, but nodded resentfully.

"I need to hear you say it, Trip," Archer said quietly.

For a moment, T'Pol thought he would continue to be recalcitrant, but finally Tucker spat out, "Okay, I'll take it easy," then he jerked his arm out of Archer's grasp.

T'Pol noticed the captain tense. He compressed his lips as he fought to control his temper, but he managed to remain silent.

Just then Lieutenant Renshaw slipped back into the waiting area and said, "Captain Archer, you and your officers may proceed to your shuttlepod. We have everything secured."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Archer said wearily.

Almost before the words were out of his mouth, Lieutenant Reed marched through the door and out onto the tarmac. Ever dutiful, he wanted to check the security measures before any of his fellow crewmen left the relative safety of the building. After a quick, yet thorough, look around he turned back to the captain and nodded.

"You have immediate clearance to depart for Enterprise," Renshaw said. "Have a safe journey."

As Trip offered T'Pol his hand to help her rise, Hoshi took the lead and headed out of the door. In moments, they had all boarded the shuttlepod. Travis took the controls and had them headed back to the ship in near-record time.

T'Pol took a seat at the rear of the shuttlepod. If she could have put more distance between herself and her fellow crewmen, she would have done so. Her emotional control was stretched to the limit. Whereas Trip had kicked and scratched to get out of taking some time off, she secretly welcomed the doctor's ultimatum. She needed to meditate.

She looked up and saw Trip watching her. She knew that he was concerned about her, but she couldn't handle the chaos that perpetually seemed to swirl about him of late. Wincing from the intensity of his emotions, she quickly dropped her eyes. Her physical discomfort was short-lived, though. She immediately felt Trip pull away as he shielded his thoughts from her.

Since Elizabeth's death, T'Pol had learned a lot about herself and about reestablishing her emotional control, but she still yearned to lock herself away with Trip, giving them both some much needed time to heal. This time, however, that would not be possible. When she looked up again he was leaning back against the shuttlepod's hull with his eyes pressed tightly shut. This time he would not be there to help her. She would have to do it on her own.

- - - - - - - - - -

_The doors of the turbolift swished open. T'Pol stepped onto the bridge and came to an abrupt halt. She was all alone. Where was the bridge crew? In the distance she could hear weeping. Quickly, she headed toward her science station, but nothing was working. Internal and external sensors were both down. She moved to the communication station and activated the viewscreen. _

_Instead of a star-filled sky, cold black water surrounded Enterprise. Surprisingly, she could hear the waves lapping against the side of the ship._

_In spite of her vaunted Vulcan composure, she jumped when a voice behind her said, "I've given the order to close the watertight doors, but it won't do any good. We're sinking." _

_She whipped around and stood face to face with Captain Jonathan Archer. _

"_The warp and impulse engines are both offline," he said. He appeared to be composed, but there was an underlying tension in his voice that disturbed her. "We're loading the lifeboats. You should get to your station, Commander."_

_T'Pol stared at him. He wore a hip-length coat over his Starfleet uniform, and he clutched an antiquated lifejacket in his hands. _

"_Did you hear me, Commander? You need to get to your lifeboat station. We have to save as many as we can. I only wish we had lifeboats for everyone." Shaking his head impatiently when she didn't respond, he quickly turned his attention to his communications officer. "Keep sending the distress call, Ensign." _

"_Aye, sir," Ensign Sato said. There was a slight tremor in her voice, but she remained firmly at her post. _

_T'Pol could still hear weeping, but now it was intermingled with screams and the melodious strains of distant music. The air was thick with tension and, against all reason, she felt very afraid. _

_Suddenly a phase pistol was thrust into her hand. "We must not have any panic," Lieutenant Reed said quietly. "You must do your duty if there is trouble."_

_When she felt the bridge shudder, she grabbed for her console to help maintain her balance. The deck was no longer level and the screams were getting louder._

"_Get to your station," the captain barked at her._

_Immediately responding to the urgency in his voice, T'Pol struggled toward the turbolift. When the doors swished open, she was momentarily stunned. Instead of the turbolift cabin, an empty corridor stretched before her. _

"_Hurry!"_

_Spurred forward by the sounds of hundreds of frantic, unseen people, she started to run. When she reached the end of the corridor, she became disoriented. The layout of the ship was not as it should be. Which way was engineering? She closed her eyes and tried desperately to find Trip through their bond. Suddenly she knew and quickly turned to the left. _

_She'd only gone a few steps when she was forced to come to a halt. Her mother and Soval stood side-by-side awaiting her. Her mother's robes were drenched with water, and T'Pol could she her shiver against the cold. Soval's robes were dry, but they were all of a single color, blending with his complexion to make one virtually indistinguishable from the other. The color was so like that of the surrounding corridor that he was all but invisible. In true Vulcan fashion, T'Les and Soval were both unmoved by the chaos swirling about them._

"_Why are you hesitating, daughter?" T'Les asked. _

"_I have to get to engineering," T'Pol replied. Although she was trying to maintain her composure, there was a hint of desperation in her voice. "The engines are offline. I can be of assistance."_

"_You know where your duty lies, T'Pol, and it is not in engineering. There is nothing you can do there. It is a lost cause." With a sympathetic look that spoke volumes as to the depth of her affection and understanding, T'Les reached out to stroke her daughter's cheek. T'Pol flinched. Her mother's hand was shriveled and icy cold._

"_The collapsible lifeboats are your responsibility," Soval said patiently. "All the other boats are away. You must save as many lives as you can. You must save yourself." _

"_Commander Tucker requires my assistance…"_

"_Enterprise is sinking, T'Pol. Engineering is flooded." Soval took a step towards her. "We could have stayed afloat with four compartments flooded, but when five were breached the situation became hopeless. Commander Tucker did all he could, but he cannot hold the water back any longer."_

_Suddenly, she felt a biting wind against her face. When she looked around, she realized that she was standing on Enterprise's outer hull. Half a dozen sober-faced crewmen were clustered about her. Soval and her mother were gone, sucked into the inky black of the night. _

"_Here, Commander, you forgot your lifejacket," Ensign Mayweather said. He was forced to raise his voice in order to be heard over the tumult. "This collapsible is the last lifeboat. If we can't get it launched soon it will be too late."_

"_Have you seen Commander Tucker?" she shouted. _

"_No, ma'am. Most of the engineering crew didn't make it out. We need your help. You're the only one who knows how to fix this boat, but you have to hurry."_

_T'Pol looked down and saw that water lapped around her ankles. Spurred to action, she mobilized the six crewmen and the lifeboat was made serviceable in record time. When they were all aboard, Ensign Mayweather and Crewman Ellard took the oars, and they moved away from the dying starship. _

_Ensign Sato sat in the bow, her teeth chattering with the cold. "The Ti'Mur is coming. It will be here soon," she mumbled. "Columbia is coming, too, but she won't get here until tomorrow. There's no one else. Everyone's too far away. I tried. I…"_

"_Ensign," T'Pol said soothingly, "we know you did your best."_

"_Did you hear that, Commander?" Travis asked urgently. "There's someone in the water – ten degrees to port."_

_As soon as the words were out of Mayweather's mouth, T'Pol could hear the shouting. The voice was unmistakable. It was Commander Tucker. She fought to control the panic she felt building inside her. She could just make him out in the distance. He was swimming towards her._

_Mayweather and Ellard put their backs into each stroke of the oars, but the boat made no headway. Since there were no other oars, T'Pol was forced to sit helplessly in the stern and listen to Tucker's cries for help. She could see that he was tiring. The water was so cold. _

"_T'Pol!" Tucker shouted frantically. "Please, T'Pol, help me!" _

_Sensing his terror, she jumped up and started to dive into the water, but Doctor Phlox grabbed her and refused to let her go. _

"_I have to try and save him," she yelled as she tried to squirm out of the doctor's grasp._

"_Don't be foolish," Phlox shouted. "If you try to save him, you'll both perish. If he can just hold out for a little longer, we'll reach him. You must trust us."_

"_T'Pol…please." Tucker's voice was becoming faint._

_Suddenly, the lifeboat began to close the gap between them. They had to hurry. Trip was no longer swimming smoothly. His strokes had become slow and clumsy as he fought against the numbing effects of the frigid sea. She could barely hear his cries for help. A few more strokes of the oars and he was almost within arm's reach. She leaned over the side of the lifeboat and extended her hand towards him. For one agonizing moment their fingers touched…then, as he whispered her name one last time, he disappeared below the surface of the icy water._

"No!" T'Pol shot upright in bed. Her body trembled as she searched the darkness for him. Her heart racing, she fought to keep the panic she felt under control. As her eyes began to focus, she saw the stars streaming past her window. She could feel the gentle pulse of the warp engine. She was on _Enterprise_ and he was alive. It had only been a dream.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms tightly around them. She had to rein in her emotions. Her diminished control had opened the door to the world of dreams, and it was a frightening place.

She thought about calling Doctor Phlox, but no…she had to do this by herself. Meditation and a life dedicated to logic and stoicism would be her sword and shield against the chaos that threatened to engulf her. She was Vulcan. She would prevail.

Alone and tired, she was powerless to prevent her thoughts from returning to Trip. She closed her eyes and shuddered as she tried to push thoughts of his death out of her mind. They were far too painful to contemplate, especially now. She knew he was struggling, yet she did nothing. What if by pushing him away, she caused his destruction, the very thing she had hoped to avoid? But if she didn't push him away…

"Someone please help me," she whispered tremulously, "I don't know what to do."

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

I would also like to thank everyone who has read the chapters I've posted. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review them.

CHAPTER 7: PHLOX

"You'll be happy to know that it's nothing more than the common cold." Ensign Kelly looked anything but happy as she sniffled in response to the doctor's pronouncement.

"Brazil is a remarkable place," the doctor stated enthusiastically. "What a stroke of luck for the crew that we were given one week of shore leave there before the start of the trial in San Francisco. And how fortunate for us that Ensign Sato is such a wonderful tour guide. I had no idea that we would have the chance to see so many marvels: exotic floral and fauna, magnificent sunsets, and endless scenic vistas. How delightful! A little cold is a small price to pay, don't you think?" A monumental sneeze erupted from the petite ensign, forcing the doctor to take a step backwards. As he pressed a handful of tissues into the young woman's hand, he stated categorically, "You're on sick leave for the next three days."

Kelly looked up at him with reddened eyes and blew her nose.

"Unfortunately, you've managed to contract one of the few things that I cannot cure." Phlox pressed a hypospray against Kelly's neck. "All I can give you at this point is vitamins and a mild decongestant. Get some sleep, increase your fluid intake, and I'll stop by your quarters tomorrow morning to check on you." Kelly nodded her head miserably then sneezed again into the wad of tissues.

"Sato to Dr. Phlox"

"Off with you now," he said, then stood back as the young woman slid lethargically off the biobed and headed for the door. "And remember to stay in your cabin. We don't want to have an epidemic on our hands."

Phlox shook his head and smiled as the door closed behind Kelly, then he strolled over to the companel. "Good morning, Ensign," he said with a lilt in his voice. "What can I do for you?"

"I have a call from Mr. & Mrs. Tucker. They would like to speak with you."

Phlox scrunched his features into a pensive frown. "Commander Tucker's parents?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you sure they want to talk to me?"

"Well…um…they did ask for Commander Tucker, but he was…unable to take the call."

The Doctor snorted indignantly. "Unable or unwilling." When Hoshi started to mumble a response he cut her off. "It's all right, Ensign. No explanation is necessary. Put the call through. I'd be happy to speak with them."

By the time he walked over to the monitor, the image of Trip's parents filled the screen. "Good morning, Mr. & Mrs. Tucker. How can I help you?"

Mr. Tucker squinted apprehensively then got straight to the point. "I want to know what's wrong with my boy."

"Mr. Tucker…," Phlox murmured but was immediately cut off.

"I don't want to hear that everything's fine. We watched the broadcast of the trial. He looks like hell."

"I think that is something you should take up with your son, Mr. Tucker," Phlox said quietly. "As his physician, I cannot discuss his medical condition with you. It's privileged information."

Mr. Tucker ran his hand through his hair in frustration. _Like father, like son_, Phlox mused.

"We've tried to talk to him! He won't take our calls." Mr. Tucker swallowed hard and cast a worried glance at his wife. When she reached up and gently rubbed his shoulder reassuringly, he turned back to face Phlox. "Look, I know that I've made a lot of mistakes lately. I wish to heaven that I'd never heard of Terra Prime or that idiot Paxton. I can't expect my son to ever forgive me for what I've done, but we…we need to know if he's sick. He doesn't have to know that you talked to us."

Phlox sighed deeply as he looked at the distraught couple. "You must understand that your son has been under a great deal of stress over the last few years. The responsibility for keeping this ship together is a heavy burden. So much has happened to him, so many senseless tragedies. He's tried to run away from his feelings for far too long. I'm afraid that it all may finally be catching up with him."

"Is there anything you can do to help him?" Mrs. Tucker asked. A woman in her early sixties with a face closer to cute than pretty, there was nothing fragile about her. She was clearly the emotional anchor for her family. In her deep blue eyes, Phlox saw the commander. The rest of Trip's facial features quite clearly came from his father.

"I'm sure that when he's ready for help, he'll ask for it. Your son is a strong man, both physically and mentally. He'll weather this storm just as he has all of the others in his life. You should be very proud of him. He's a fine young man." Phlox tried to smile reassuringly. It was hard to sound confident when he was clearly troubled himself. He wanted to ease their minds but without being intentionally misleading.

Mr. Tucker stirred restlessly. He looked again toward his wife who gave him an almost imperceptible nod. "About this little Vulcan gal…"

Phlox stiffened. "Mr. Tucker you know that I cannot…"

"Now just wait a minute. Don't get all het up. When it comes to the ladies, my son's always been as easy to read as a toddler's picture book. He's clearly smitten with her. T'Pol…isn't that her name?"

Phlox nodded his assent, but kept his lips pressed tightly together.

"We just want to know a little more about her. We watched her at the trial…saw her holdin' Trip's hand." Mr. Tucker paused and scrubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "I guess I owe her an apology, lumpin' her together with those bastard Xindis the way I did. That wasn't right." He tilted his head and looked at Phlox. "Speakin' of aliens, Doc, what are you?"

"I am Denobulan," Phlox said with a hint of a smile.

"Denobulan," Mr. Tucker shook his head in amazement and turned to his wife. "Imagine that."

"Charlie, you know that he's a Denobulan," Mrs. Tucker whispered, as she looked apologetically at Phlox. "Trip has often mentioned you in his letters, Doctor. I know that he thinks of you as a friend. That's why we asked to speak with you." She stuck an elbow forcefully into her husband's ribs and whispered, "Now apologize to the man."

"Keep your shirt on, woman," Charlie grumbled as he rubbed his left side.

Finally, he took a deep breath and continued, "I want to apologize, Doc, for seein' you as an alien instead of a man…an honorable man. I was wrong. But you gotta understand, when those alien vermin killed our Elizabeth – left us with nothin' but our memories – well I haven't been able to see straight since then. Don't get me wrong, we love all our children…would do anything for 'em, but Lizzie was our baby. She was kinda special." His voice faded to a whisper as he finished his thought.

Phlox found it impossible not to feel pity for this man. He was obviously trying to come to grips with his prejudices. The doctor had seen firsthand the effect that Lizzie's death had on the commander. The loss of Elizabeth Tucker had obviously devastated her entire family.

"I accept your apology, Mr. Tucker, but it really isn't necessary." Phlox favored them with one of his expansive smiles. "As for Commander T'Pol, I can tell you that she is extremely intelligent and brave. She was the first Vulcan to serve for any length of time on a human vessel. That alone should give you some idea as to her tolerance and courage. I seriously doubt that we could have survived the perils of the Delphic Expanse and stopped the Xindi weapon without her. She was and is that important to all of us."

Phlox carefully considered how to proceed. "I know that she cares deeply for your son even though they are no longer together as a couple." He paused as the Tuckers exchanged glances. Phlox was hoping to gauge their reaction to this news, but they gave away very little. He was finally forced to continue. "Perhaps the death of their child placed too great a strain on their relationship."

That statement definitely struck a chord. Mr. Tucker looked away while Mrs. Tucker crossed her arms and nervously brought her left hand up to grip the base of her throat.

"But the child was…well…she was manufactured. She wasn't really Trip's baby," Mrs. Tucker said softly. "Not really."

"Ah, now there you are wrong, Mrs. Tucker," Phlox said sadly. "That darling little girl may not have come into the world in the traditional way, but she was unquestionably their daughter."

"During the trial we heard Trip refer to the baby as Elizabeth," Mr. Tucker said quietly. "I guess it's not surprising, though. He was always pretty close to his little sister."

"Actually the name was T'Pol's idea," Phlox said firmly. He was heartened by the surprised looks on their faces. "She wanted to honor the memory of the commander's sister. She, above all people, understood the depth of his grief. He went to her for help in dealing with his insomnia, and she was able to work miracles. I seriously doubt that he would have had the strength and focus to hold this ship together without her support."

Warming to his subject Phlox forged ahead. "Not long after we discovered the existence of the baby, Commander Tucker came to see me. He wanted to know if the infant was healthy and asked after its gender. When I told him that it was a little girl, he was so pleased. He could hardly wait to tell you that you had a granddaughter. He said that it was something that his father had always wanted."

Phlox watched intently as Mr. Tucker dropped his eyes and shook his head. "Yeah I did say that." After a moment, he looked up again. "And I meant it."

"Please believe me when I tell you that even though they had Elizabeth for only a short while, both her parents cared for her deeply. Her loss was every bit as devastating for them as your daughter's loss was for you. Until you can accept that she was your granddaughter and that T'Pol was her mother, I seriously doubt that you can ever find common ground with your son." Phlox was distressed to see tears begin to form in Mrs. Tucker's eyes. "I don't say this to hurt you. It's simply the truth, and you should be aware of it."

Mr. Tucker straightened his back and cleared his throat. "My wife and I are grateful for your honesty, Doc. I'd appreciate it if you'd tell my son you talked to us. Tell him that we're tryin' to understand. If he thinks he can handle a Vulcan, then more power to him. This woman here's almost more that I can manage and she's just a human."

"Ouch!" he yelped as his wife's elbow connected once again with his rib cage. "Now cut that out, woman. What's the doctor gonna think with you assaultin' me the way you are?"

"You just never mind," Mrs. Tucker said, sniffing back the tears.

He handed her a neatly folded handkerchief and put his arm around her. "You know you'll always be my best girl," he said quietly. While she dabbed at her eyes, he leaned over and gave her a gentle peck on the cheek.

With a final reassuring pat on his wife's shoulder, Mr. Tucker raised his chin and turned his attention back to Phlox. "You tell that son of mine that we'll welcome any woman he takes to wife, but he needs to bring her home for a visit. That's only decent. We promise to be on our best behavior. You tell him that. Please."

"And tell Trip to take better care of himself," Mrs. Tucker added. There was no mistaking the tension in her voice. "It makes me feel so helpless when I see him like this. If only that boy could learn how to grieve. We've tried to teach him how to deal with the anger…the hurt, but he just bottles everything up inside. He doesn't eat right. He doesn't sleep. We've seen this so many times since…"

With a look of supreme sadness, Mr. Tucker laid a restraining hand on her arm. When she turned to him with anguish-filled eyes, he shook his head. "Now, now, darlin'. You don't have to worry. Doctor Phlox will take good care of our boy."

"We've already lost Elizabeth. If anything happened to Trip, I don't…"

"That's not gonna happen," Mr. Tucker said firmly. "Trip's got a whole starship full of people lookin' after him. He's gonna be fine."

Phlox knew that, above all, this couple needed reassurance. He was determined to do his best to ease their minds. "You don't have to be concerned. I'll speak with the commander. And I'll talk to Chef about the commander's diet. We'll see if we can't…um…fatten him up a bit." Phlox smiled engagingly. "I'll do everything I can to get your son back on the road to good health."

"Thanks for takin' the time to talk to us, Doc," Mr. Tucker said sincerely. "Next time you're back on Earth, look us up. I'll take ya fishin'."

"I'll do that, Mr. Tucker," Phlox said. "And please don't worry. I'll contact you regularly to let you know how your son is doing. Good-bye now."

Mrs. Tucker raised her hand as she murmured, "Good-bye."

Then the screen went dark.

_Interesting people_, Phlox thought. He always enjoyed meeting the parents of his fellow crewmen. It gave him fresh insights into the personalities of his friends. He just wished that this meeting had been under happier circumstances.

The doctor shook his head and sighed. Now the real work began. He had to deliver Mr. & Mrs. Tucker's message to their son. He could only hope that the commander would try to be a little understanding, but Phlox wasn't foolish enough to be overly optimistic. Of late, Commander Tucker wore his anger like a suit of armor. His unreasoning rage kept him going when life dealt him blow after blow and served to discourage others from getting too close. Now Phlox had to try to breech his defenses and bring parents and child back together again.

He brought his hands down on his knees in resignation then got to his feet. Halfway to the door he paused. It never hurt to be prepared. Turning, he moved over to the counter on the left side of sickbay and picked up a hypospray. After checking it, he put it in his pocket. Now ready to do battle, he headed for Tucker's quarters.

- - - - - - - - - -

As soon as Phlox pressed the door chime his worst fears were confirmed when a voice inside growled, "Go away." _Oh well_, he thought philosophically, _things worthwhile are seldom easy_.

"Commander, it's Doctor Phlox."

The door immediately swished open and a disheveled young man stood before him. There was a wild look of desperation in the engineer's blue eyes that Phlox had never seen before, and he found it very disturbing.

"Are you here to let me out of this damn prison?" Trip asked in a stress-filled voice.

"Now, now, Commander," Phlox said calmly, "you're supposed to be resting."

"I can't just be sittin' on my backside all day doing nothin'," Tucker said as he ran a hand anxiously through his hair. "They need me in engineering. I have to get to work."

"The corridor is not the place for this," the doctor said quietly as he took a step forward. "Why don't we go inside, and I can check on your progress."

Trip stood still for a moment, his eyes locked on the doctor's. Finally, he stepped aside and allowed Phlox to enter.

"Have a seat, Mr. Tucker," Phlox said pointing to the unmade bed. If the covers' disarray was any indication, the engineer had not had a peaceful night's sleep. After another brief staring match, Trip warily sat down. Quickly Phlox pulled out his medical scanner and set to work. He tried to keep his face neutral, but something in his expression must have alerted Tucker that the results were not good, because Trip suddenly jumped up and put as much distance as possible between himself and the doctor.

Heaving a mighty sigh, Phlox walked over to the computer, brought up a program he'd prepared in advance and stepped back. "At the risk of understatement, I must tell you, Commander, that your health, at present, is deplorable." He pointed to the screen. "This report – which I will be submitting to the captain, by the way – summarizes your present physical condition and outlines what you have to do to, as you say, get out of jail."

Behind Tucker's head, the stars streamed by the viewport in stark contrast to his motionless stance. Slowly, Trip's eyes moved from the monitor to the doctor and back again. He ran his tongue nervously over his lips. Finally, his curiosity got the better of him, and he cautiously moved over to look at the information on the monitor.

As the commander scanned the data, Phlox stood off to the side with his hands folded in front of him. "I don't believe I'm asking too much," the doctor said, referring to his program for the commander's recovery.

"It says here you want to give me a shot once a day," Trip muttered, jabbing a finger at the screen. He looked over his shoulder and glared at the doctor. "What kind of shot?"

"An anti-depressant," Phlox answered quietly.

Trip jerked upright and planted his hands on his hips. "You think I'm depressed?" he spat out incredulously.

"Yes," Phlox replied calmly. "But then I'm not telling you anything that you don't already know."

For a split second, Trip's belligerent mask slipped, allowing the doctor to see the stark terror in the young man's eyes. Before Phlox could learn more, the commander, once again, retreated behind the mask.

Taking a step toward the troubled human, Phlox said softly, "I only want to help you, Commander. Please let me do my job."

"No shots," Trip murmured in a husky voice.

"But, Commander, you need…"

"No!" Trip turned back toward the monitor. Lowering his head, he said quietly, "I'll follow your damn plan, but…no shots."

"You aren't making this easy, Mr. Tucker," Phlox scolded softly. "What am I supposed to tell your parents? Your mother is concerned that you don't look well."

"You leave my parents out of this. They…" Suddenly the doctor's words hit home. Trip spun around and stared wide-eyed at the doctor. "You talked to my mother?"

"Yes."

There was a look of genuine look of bewilderment on Trip's face. "Why would you want to do that?"

"I spoke to your father as well."

"Dad?"

Phlox nodded. "When they called, their son refused to speak with them. I was their second choice." He looked pointedly at the commander. "They're worried about you, you know. They watched the trial."

"Oh."

The Doctor shifted his weight and clasped his hands behind his back. "They asked about T'Pol and the baby."

Tucker paled. "I'm thrilled to death that you and my parents got on so well," he sneered uneasily, "but I really don't want to talk about this right now."

"They've already lost a daughter. They don't want to lose a son as well," Phlox said quietly. "Why don't you give them another chance? They know they've made a serious mistake, but they're trying to make amends. As a matter of fact, they'd like you to bring T'Pol home for a visit."

"Now wouldn't that be special," Tucker jeered. "A Vulcan ought to fit right in with those bastards from Terra Prime." Trip ran his hand anxiously through his hair again. "T'Pol's life is difficult enough right now without throwing her to the wolves. I won't do it."

"Your father is trying to move past his prejudices," the doctor pleaded. "He was deeply wounded by your sister's death. By lashing out at all aliens, he felt he was doing something to avenge her and keep the rest of his family safe."

"Don't try to excuse what he did," Tucker shouted. "I grieved for Lizzie, too, but I didn't take up with a bunch of fascists who want to destroy everything we were taught to value and believe in."

Phlox raised his hands in mollification. "Your father said, and I quote, 'I wish I'd never heard of Terra Prime.' He referred to Paxton as an idiot."

"Hmph," Tucker snorted. "Even the rats are jumpin' ship."

"Commander…"

Torn between love and hate, Tucker shook his head furiously. "They killed my baby," he hissed. "I can never forgive that."

"Don't you see, Commander, that's exactly the way your parents felt? They're trying to deal with their pain and move on. You can, too. Just try talking to them."

"My parents and I have nothing to say to each other." Trip was adamant. "End of conversation."

Phlox watched helplessly as Tucker returned to the monitor. The commander tried to appear calm as he reviewed his medical data, but he couldn't hide the fact that his hands were shaking. Finally, he raised his head and said, "Please, Doc, I have to work this out for myself. I know my parents love me…but what they did…I just can't forgive them. Not yet." The words came out tinged with a weariness that seemed to go right down to the bone.

Concerned, Phlox walked up behind the young man and murmured, "Come with me to sickbay, Commander. Let me help you." Tucker shook his head and leaned forward again, gripping the desk with both hands. "You don't have to feel this way. If you won't let me help you, I know other doctors who are very good at helping people work through their problems."

"No!" Holding his hands out in front of his body, palms forward, Tucker backed away from Phlox. "I don't need to go to sickbay, and I sure as hell don't want to see a psychiatrist. I can take care of myself. Please…just leave me alone." Before Phlox had a chance to respond, Trip disappeared into the bathroom and slammed the door.

- - - - - - - - - -

Late that evening, Phlox stood outside Captain Archer's quarters. As soon as he pressed the door chime, he heard the muted shout, "Come in." The door swished open and he stepped inside. He was immediately greeted by an ecstatic little beagle. Porthos stretched full length up Phlox's leg, putting his head within easy scratching range of the doctor's hand.

"Evening, Doctor," Archer said genially. "I was just about to indulge myself. Would you care for a drink?" He held up a decanter filled two-thirds full of a golden brown liquid.

"May I ask what you're drinking?"

"Kentucky bourbon. Have you ever tried it?" Archer motioned toward his desk chair, inviting the doctor to take a seat.

"Denobulans aren't known for their tolerance for spirits," Phlox responded with a huge smile as he sat down, "but I promised myself when I signed on _Enterprise_ that I would open myself to as many new experiences as possible. I can now add Kentucky bourbon to my list."

He accepted a glass from the captain and took a sip. "Mmm," he said as he held the glass up to the light. "This is rather refreshing. I can see why you'd welcome a glass at the end of the day."

Archer smiled. "I must admit that I've never thought of bourbon as refreshing, but to each his own. I'm glad you like it."

With the amenities over, the doctor got down to business. "I had a call today from Commander's Tucker's parents."

"Really," Archer said, the surprise clear in his voice. "I didn't think you knew them."

"I don't. It seems they watched the trial. They're concerned about the commander."

"Aren't we all," Archer murmured under his breath.

"They seem like very nice people. I look forward to getting to know them better. As a matter of fact, Mr. Tucker told me to…um…look them up the next time we return to Earth. He said he'd take me fishing."

Smiling, Archer walked over and sat down on the bed. With his back against the headboard he stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankles. He patted the bed and Porthos immediately jumped up, curling into a ball within easy petting distance of his master's left hand. The captain took a drink and leaned his head back.

"I suppose I ought to warn you," Archer said, raising one eyebrow good-naturedly. "Trip's parents don't just entertain their guests, they adopt them. Once you've met the Tuckers, you're friends for life. There are times when it can be rather overwhelming."

Phlox smiled broadly, took another sip and settled himself comfortably in his chair. "It's certainly easy to see where the commander gets his outgoing personality. What can you tell me about his parents?"

Archer nodded. "Well, let's see…depending on whom you talk to, Charlie Tucker is colorful, eccentric, brilliant, a clown, or out-and-out crazy. Take your pick. His family wanted him to go college, but he had other ideas. He decided that the best way to learn about the world was to take odd jobs. So he was a fishing guide for a while. Then he got into construction work. He collected trash, worked on a chicken farm…you get the idea.

Phlox watched as the captain raised his glass and took another sip.

"Anyway, it turned out that Charlie had a real head for business. He got a job in a small boatyard down in Florida. Within three years he was part owner. A year later he owned it all. Today his company is one of the largest manufacturers of pleasure boats on Earth. Yachts, rowboats, catamarans, you name it."

"And Mrs. Tucker," Phlox prompted.

"Ellie was researching a paper for a college class when she paid a visit to the boatyard. According to her, Charlie Tucker is the only man who can turn scraping barnacles off a hull into a sensual experience. He made such an impression on her that she dropped out of school and married him. Over the next ten years, she produced four kids and kept the company's books. She's one tough lady.

"The kids helped around the boatyard when they were old enough. Of course, Trip headed for the motors right away." It was obvious from the smile on Archer's face that he was still very fond of the commander. "Charlie told me that, at first, Trip was a whole lot better at taking things apart than he was at putting them back together, but it wasn't long before they realized that they had a prodigy on their hands. Trip could do things with machines that most adults couldn't begin to conceptualize.

"Since then, Ellie's gone back to school. She's got a number of degrees to her credit, including a doctorate. Last time I talked to her, she was thinking about taking up landscape architecture. It's something Lizzie got her interested in."

Finally, Archer leaned forward and looked searchingly at Phlox. "But you didn't really come here to talk about Trip's parents, did you?"

The doctor took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "No, Captain. I only wish that was the reason for my visit."

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" Archer asked wearily. When Phlox shook his head, Jon tossed back the rest of his drink and refilled his glass. "I guess you better get on with it."

"I'm afraid that Mr. Tucker is unwell," he said quietly. "He's suffering from depression."

It was obvious that Archer was deeply distressed, but he didn't interrupt.

"I spoke with the commander earlier today. I outlined my conditions for his return to duty. He promised that he would begin to take better care of himself."

"But you have your doubts."

"Let's just say that I'm not overly optimistic."

Archer shifted restlessly on his bed. "I can order him to sickbay, if you think that would help."

A frown creased the doctor's brow. "I'm not sure that would be wise. Commander Tucker is frightened of something. I can see it in his eyes. He is adamant that he doesn't want to go to sickbay. For the moment, I think it would be best if we don't push too hard. I'll watch him closely for the next few days."

"Isn't there anything you can do for him?"

"I offered to start him on antidepressants, but he refused treatment. If he comes to me for help, I will do everything I can for him. You know that, Captain. Until then, however, my hands are effectively tied. He has to admit that he has a problem. I can treat his symptoms, but it is vital that we identify and treat the underlying cause of his depression."

Archer finished his drink and slapped the empty glass down on his nightstand. He stood up abruptly and started to pace. "Can he still be trusted to run engineering?"

After taking a moment to consider Phlox replied, "As far as I can determine, yes. Every time he forces himself to go to work – and I'm sure that on many days it is a struggle - he's trying to prove to you and to himself that he can still do his job. He's dedicated to _Enterprise_ and to the crew. He would never do anything to endanger either one."

"But he's willing to endanger his own health."

"Captain, depression is an insidious disease. It makes you feel powerless to control any aspect of your life. It can totally disrupt your eating and sleeping patterns. You don't eat, you eat too much, you can't sleep, or you can't force yourself to get out of bed in the morning. Fear and insecurity are your constant companions. The deeper it sucks you down the more hopeless and pointless your life becomes. That's why, if depression is left untreated, suicide can offer a welcome release."

"Then treat him," Archer snapped. "I'm not going to stand by and let him destroy himself."

"You have to understand how difficult it is for Commander Tucker to admit that he's ill. I've heard you describe him on occasion as tough as nails."

Archer nodded grudgingly.

"A man whose self-image is based on being tough as nails will see this affliction as a personal failure. He wants to be strong, but he's too weak to control his emotions. He wants to feel good, but he can't. He thinks he can bend this disease to his will just as easily as he controls his warp engine, and it can't be done. He's going to fight and fight against acknowledging that he has a problem until it brutally brings him to his knees. When that happens, he's going to need all of his friends to help him put the pieces back together again."

Archer sank down on the bed. Porthos, sensing his master's distress, came over and lay down, resting his head on Archer's thigh.

"How could this have happened?" the captain asked, as he stroked the dog's soft fur. "He dealt with his sister's death and the hell we experienced in the Expanse…"

"I think he's just now coming to grips with those events," the doctor said quietly. "I know the Expanse took a heavy toll on every member of the crew, especially you, Captain, but for the commander, the losses seem to be more…well…personal. He buried the pain for several years, and then everything began to come apart." Phlox shrugged. "We will probably never know what triggered this emotional upheaval. It could have been the death of the baby, the problems with his parents, or…" Phlox reached into his left pocket and pulled out a padd. He rose and handed it to Archer. "Do you recognize this?"

The captain took the padd and looked at it. "This is the suicide note Ensign Masaro left for Trip."

"Did you read it?"

"No. It wasn't meant for me."

"Even though it was intended to be private, as the commander's doctor, I felt it was necessary to see what was so distressing for him. I think you should read it."

Reluctantly, Archer brought up the message and started to read.

_I am so sorry! Please forgive me, sir. I would never hurt you. You're the best CO I've ever had. I joined Terra Prime because I hated the Xindi for what they did to Earth. When the Xindi attacked Florida, they killed my two best friends. I knew you'd understand how I feel, sir, because they killed your sister, too. They're all butchers and Starfleet was treating them like they were our friends. I couldn't stand for that. _

_I didn't know about the baby. The people at Terra Prime told me they were going to use Commander T'Pol's DNA to prove just how alien the Vulcans are. I guess I should have asked a few more questions when they wanted your DNA, too, but I didn't. For that, I'm sorry. _

_You know better than anyone that the Vulcans aren't like us. They don't know what it means to love or hate or grieve over the loss of family and friends. They have no business trying to tell us how to run Earth. It would be best if they went back to Vulcan and allowed us to live in peace. _

_I know that my career is over. It won't take Lieutenant Reed very long to figure out that I was the one who stole the DNA. I betrayed you, sir. I know you probably won't be able to forgive me, but I'd like to try and make things right. If I kill myself, you won't have to be constantly reminded of what I did. There won't have to be another trial. You are an important man, sir. Compared to you, I know that my life doesn't mean much, but it's all I have to give. I hope that my death can in some small way make up for what I've done. _

"Oh, no," Archer groaned after reading the note.

"I'm sure that the ensign didn't realize how devastating this would be for Commander Tucker."

"No wonder Trip was so upset."

Phlox took the padd from Archer and put it back in his pocket. "Even the strongest man has his limits, Captain. Guilt and grief can break down the staunchest defenses. I want you to know that I'll do everything I can for Mr. Tucker. Somehow we'll get him through this."

"Let me know if there is anything I can do to help," Archer said soberly. "You know I'd do anything for Trip."

"I will, Captain." The doctor started to make his way to the door, but after taking only a couple of steps, he stopped and a smile crept across his face. "And thank you for the introduction to Kentucky bourbon."

Archer rose from the bed and accompanied the doctor to the door. "Stop by for a drink anytime. You're good company, Phlox. Sometimes being the captain can be a pretty lonely job."

"I'm here anytime you need me," the doctor said as he gave a farewell pat to Porthos. The door swished open. "Goodnight, Captain. And don't worry." Archer remained standing in the doorway as the door closed, concern still etched clearly on his face.

Phlox walked back to sickbay deep in thought. Fortunately, because of the late hour, he didn't have to worry about dodging other crewmen. He had the corridors all to himself. Mentally sifting through his knowledge of human psychology, he tried to find some way to reach Commander Tucker. The young man's natural stubbornness, mixed with the desperation that now seemed to seep from every pore, made him a particularly difficult patient. As the doors swished open and he entered sickbay, Phlox unaccountably felt his spirits rise. He just had to keep trying and eventually he would find a way to succeed. "Optimism," he said vigorously, "and a little bit of luck."

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

I would also like to thank everyone who has read the chapters I've posted. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review them.

CHAPTER 8: ARCHER

The captain had barely arrived back on _Enterprise_ following his appearance at Paxton's trial when Hoshi alerted him that Admiral Gardner wanted to talk to him.

"Thank you, Ensign," Archer said wearily. "I'll take it in my ready room." He left the bridge, walked over and plopped down in his desk chair. He paused then reached over and activated his monitor. Gardner's image immediately appeared.

"Sorry to bother you, Jon," the admiral said sincerely. "I know you must be tired. This trial has been an ugly affair. I hope it won't drag on too much longer. How are your people?"

"As well as can be expected," Archer said. "It's been especially difficult for Commanders Tucker and T'Pol. I'm giving them both some time off to recuperate."

"They made the best of a bad situation." The admiral paused and looked intently at the captain. "Did you know about their relationship?"

"No," Archer shifted restlessly in his chair. "Not really. I knew they'd become close friends, but beyond that…"

"If they want to continue their relationship, Jon, we may have to talk about it. It might not be wise to keep them on the same ship. I know that Captain Hernandez would love to have Commander Tucker back on _Columbia_."

"I bet she would," Archer said under his breath. The idea of losing one of his two best friends did not appeal to Archer. Besides, there was no way that he could let Trip go in his present condition. He needed to change the subject. "Do we have any idea how many more Terra Prime operatives are still out there?"

"I doubt we'll ever know for sure; some of them are dug in pretty deep. We know now that we have all the leaders. The organization may continue to pose a small threat, but nothing that we can't handle."

"That's good to know."

"If it's any consolation," the admiral continued, "it appears as though Paxton seriously miscalculated. It's been hard for the vast majority of people to see that angelic little baby as the devil incarnate. If anything, people's eyes have been opened to the possibilities of improved interspecies relations." The admiral's mouth opened then snapped shut again. His face quickly took on a rosy hue. "Er, that's relations of a non-intimate nature, of course."

Archer had to struggle manfully to hide his smile.

Gardner quickly recovered his poise. "Ambassador Soval has informed me that public opinion seems to be shifting away from the xenophobic demonstrations we've seen since the Xindi attack. I think if the commanders were able to get out and talk to the average people, they'd find that they have a lot of sympathy and support."

The admiral shifted in his chair. "Oh, and Jon, I assume that Commander Tucker knows about his parents involvement with Terra Prime."

Archer gritted his teeth. He didn't think he'd ever forget the betrayal and rage on Trip's face when he'd made that discovery. "Yes, sir. I'm afraid that he didn't take it very well."

"I guess that's not really too surprising. Well, tell him that from the evidence we've been able to compile, his parents were Terra Prime members in name only. I intend to have words with Starfleet Intelligence. That report should never have been forwarded to you before it was confirmed. Their actions were completely irresponsible."

"Thank you, Admiral. I'll pass the word along. I'm sure that it will make things easier for Commander Tucker." When Gardner paused, Archer said, "Is there something else, sir?"

"Even though the xenophobic feelings are not as strong as they were a few months ago, there are still some fanatics out there. I'd feel better if _Enterprise _stayed away from Earth for awhile longer. Ambassador Gral and the Tellarite delegation are ready to return to their home world. I want you to give them a ride. They know you, and they're comfortable on _Enterprise_…at least as comfortable as it's possible for them to be."

Archer's groan was audible.

"I know Gral's antics could make the Pope swear, but it's a job that has to be done. The Tellarites have to ratify the coalition agreement as soon as possible. Gral can get that done for us. Unfortunately, the participation of the Tellarites is vital for the long-term stability of the coalition."

"Yes, sir." Archer knew that his response lacked enthusiasm.

"Do this, Jon, and we'll talk about sending _Enterprise_ out to do a little exploring."

"When does the ambassador want to leave?"

"Send a shuttlepod down to Starfleet Command at 0900 tomorrow morning. Ambassador Gral is very eager to leave. He thinks the coalition is just what he needs to make him a very important man back home. He's likely to be a bit of a handful."

"He's always been a handful," Archer said resignedly, "but we'll manage. If that's all, sir, I need to get my people started on making preparations for the ambassador and his party."

"Tell your officers that Starfleet appreciates their professionalism during the trial. As far as the Tellarites are concerned, they're your problem. Good luck, Captain." The admiral flashed a smug grin before his image faded from the screen.

_Why is it always the Tellarites_? Archer thought as he slumped back into his chair. _Oh well, moaning and groaning isn't going to make the problem go away_. He reached for the comm button then paused. T'Pol was off duty as per Doctor Phlox's edict. He needed a combination baby sitter and social director. After giving the matter some thought, he pressed the button.

"Ensign Sato here, sir."

"Hoshi, send in Lieutenant Reed."

- - - - - - - - - -

"It's a pretty sorry day when a captain has to hide out on his own ship," Archer mumbled grumpily. He opened the gymnasium door and peeked out into the corridor. _This is absolutely ridiculous_, he thought angrily. _Enterprise_ was his ship. He ought to be able to come and go as he pleased. But just to be on the safe side… Jon quickly took a look both ways before striding out into the corridor.

For weeks, he'd managed to make the best of a bad situation, conscientiously performing his duties as a host, but dining with the Tellarite ambassador night after night had finally driven Archer underground. He didn't think it was possible, but he was running out of ways to verbally abuse the ambassador. Thank goodness Lieutenant Reed had stepped in to take up the slack. When this was over, he would have to find some way to repay Malcolm.

In the mean time, though, he had to find a way to stay out of sight without alienating the Tellarite delegation. Maybe he could get Phlox to write a note for him. Something simple and straight forward like, "Please excuse Captain Jonathan Archer from any further meals with Ambassador Gral. He's suffering from a chronic pain in the neck."

By now, it was almost midnight. Time had certainly gotten away from him. He'd asked T'Pol if he could stop by to check on her, but the hour agreed upon for that visit had long since past. He paused outside her door. He knew that he should probably return to his quarters, but perhaps she was still awake. Throwing caution to the wind, he pressed the door chime.

He was only left standing for a moment when the door slid open. Commander T'Pol stood there, swathed in her light blue pajamas and robe. The room behind her was illuminated by her mediation candles. She did not look happy.

"I was under the impression that the time agreed upon for your visit was 2200 hours," she said with steely calm.

"I apologize, T'Pol," Archer said sincerely. "I was…well…I was working out and I guess I just lost track of the time."

T'Pol sniffed delicately and her brow wrinkled.

Suddenly aware of his sweat stained shorts and t-shirt, Archer mentally chided himself. He should have showered before he stopped by. "It's late. Why don't I come back tomorrow," he said, taking a step backwards.

"Why did you wish to see me? Is there a problem?"

"Not a problem exactly…" Archer nervously looked up and down the corridor. "Do you think we could go inside? I promise to make this short."

T'Pol nodded and stepped back allowing the captain to enter. She motioned to the bench then walked over to her bed and sat down.

Archer took a moment to study her face. "How are you feeling?"

"I am well," T'Pol said calmly. Apparently she had no interest in polite conversation because she proceeded to get right to the point. "Does your visit have something to do with our distinguished guests?"

Archer smiled ruefully. "Malcolm's been spending a lot of time with the Tellarites. I'd like to give him a bit of a breather. Could you give him a hand?"

"Consider it done, Captain. I will meet with Lieutenant Reed tomorrow, and we can set up a schedule." T'Pol rose and took a few steps toward the door, but the captain remained seated, his head down, deep in thought.

"Is there something else?" she asked softly.

Archer stood and looked her in the eye. "I have something I'd like you to work on, but this would just be between you and me."

She raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"During one of my interminable meals with Ambassador Gral, he spoke of a small uninhabited planet located about three days journey from Tellar."

"Uninhabited?"

"Yes. Evidently the weather can be vicious and unpredictable, it isn't arable, and it appears to have no valuable natural resources."

"And you wish to go there?"

Archer nodded.

"May I ask why?"

"I need to get Trip off the ship."

T'Pol's eyes widened, but she didn't interrupt.

"He refused to take shore leave when we were in Brazil. And the trial…well, you saw him after the adjournment. He's hurt and he's angry. I want to take him somewhere where he can relax and get away from engineering, even if it's only for a few days."

"And you believe that a planet deemed to be worthless is the proper place to do that," she said skeptically.

Archer turned away from her and began to pace. "I know it sounds crazy, but I don't have a lot of options right now. Phlox is worried about Trip and so am I." He swung around to face her. "Right now this is the best option available to me. I need an excuse to go down there. I don't care if it's some kind of a survey, a mapping expedition, or a search for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Trip's so close to the edge. I have to get him through this. Will you help me?"

T'Pol pressed her lips together and turned away from him. Archer hated to be the bearer of bad tidings, but he knew that T'Pol was fond of Trip and would want to help him.

After a moment she said, "I will find something. I will start on it first thing tomorrow morning."

"Thank you, T'Pol." Relieved, Archer headed for the door. "I'll have one of the Tellarites pass along any information they have. As soon as you have something worked up, let me know."

Forgetting his earlier attempts at caution, Archer slapped the panel and the door swished open. He stepped out into the corridor and ran smack into Commander Tucker.

As the captain extended his hand to steady the younger man, he noticed Trip's eyes dart to the open door to T'Pol's quarters. The Vulcan was only visible for a second before the door slid shut again. The two men stood side by side in utter silence, the commander's gaze riveted on the door.

Realizing that the circumstances were a bit unusual, Archer felt the need to explain. "I stopped by to ask T'Pol to help me with a project I'm working on."

"Good…that's good…I guess," Tucker muttered. "Are you sure she's not tryin' to do too much?"

"She's fine, Trip," Archer said good-naturedly. "Quit worrying. As a matter of fact, I think she's been meditating. Her room's lit up like a cathedral on Easter Sunday."

"That's good," Trip said wistfully. "I've been kinda worried."

Archer was struggling to keep Trip in the conversation. "Are you headed back to your quarters?"

Trip nodded absent-mindedly.

"Mind if I walk along?" When he didn't get a response Archer waved his hand in front of his friend's face. "Trip?"

"Sorry." Tucker cleared his throat and finally focused his attention on the captain. "What did you say?"

"I asked if you'd mind if I walked you back to your quarters. How about it?"

Trip bristled slightly. "I don't need a keeper, ya know."

"I know that." Archer was trying desperately to say the right words. "I just haven't seen much of you lately. I've missed you, Trip."

Tucker looked at Archer and forced a smile. "Sure, why not. Just don't get any ideas about tuckin' me in. I don't even let my mama do that anymore."

"No problem." Archer smiled. He threw he arm around Trip's shoulders and headed him toward his quarters. "You wouldn't be interested in a little football and a couple of beers tomorrow night, would you?"

Trip threw a puzzled look his way. "It isn't football season."

"I know that. I picked up some archival footage of some of the early Super Bowls. I thought you might enjoy it."

"No kidding?"

"Yep. And as long as we're relaxing, there's this water polo match I've been meaning to watch."

For the first time in months Archer heard Trip laugh. It was a very good sound.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

I would also like to thank everyone who has read the chapters I've posted. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review them.

CHAPTER 9: MALCOLM

_I could really learn to hate the Tellarites_, Malcolm thought as he and two of his security men rushed to engineering. It seemed as though he'd done nothing for the last couple of weeks but put out one fire after another. It was as though the three delegates seemed to make it their personal quest to piss off every member of the crew. So far they'd been inordinately successful. Their presence could empty a room faster than the threat of depressurization.

After observing the diplomatic niceties, Captain Archer had managed to make himself scarce. When he wasn't on duty, he kept to his quarters. He entertained the delegates in the captain's mess only when propriety demanded it, and propriety was counting for less and less all the time.

T'Pol was back on duty, but the burden of riding herd on the Tellarites still fell to Malcolm, and they were insufferable. The problems had escalated to the point where a self-inflicted wound no longer sounded like a dishonorable act. What was an odd toe here or there when one's sanity was at stake.

Malcolm opened the door and entered engineering. His security men followed and took up positions on either side of him. The sight that greeted him caused Reed to shake his head. Commander Tucker and Ambassador Gral were standing nose to snout. Arms flailing, voices raised, they were in the midst of one whale of an argument. The other two members of the Tellarite delegation stood close behind the ambassador, seemingly offering moral support.

Reed walked over to Lieutenant Hess. "What is it this time?" he asked wearily.

"The Tellarites insulted the warp engine," she replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

"The engine." Reed was incredulous. "You can't insult an inanimate object."

"According to Commander Tucker you can and they did."

"Trip realizes that insults are mother's milk to these Tellarites, doesn't he?"

"I suppose he does, but he's been a little sensitive lately."

"A little sensitive. That's rather a monumental understatement, don't you think? He seems to take offense almost as quickly as our distinguished guests." Reed took one more look at the two combatants. Surprisingly, they appeared to be pretty evenly matched. "I guess I'd better break this up," he muttered with a much put-upon sigh.

Hess looked at him sympathetically. "Break a leg."

"Don't tempt me." He idly fingered his phase pistol. "If I had any sense at all I'd just shoot them both and be done with it." With a silent plea for patience and divine guidance, Malcolm headed into the fray.

"I'm not surprised that you're sensitive about your engines, Commander," Ambassador Gral sneered. "I wouldn't want anyone to see this disgusting pile of junk either. It must be very difficult for you to hide your incompetence from Captain Archer."

"Incompetence!" shouted Tucker. "I'll have you know that this engine is the pride of Starfleet! Your problem is that you're used to that second-rate crap they use to power Tellarite ships!"

"Second-rate!"

"Yeah, second-rate! If your ships are so damn great how come you're hitchin' a ride home with us! Your ships probably can't go this far without breakin' down!"

Ambassador Gral shoved his face even closer. "We should never have lowered ourselves to mingle with an inferior species such as…"

Before the ambassador could finish his thought, Reed unceremoniously grabbed the commander's arm and pulled him aside. "What in the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Malcolm hissed.

"I've had about all I can take of that pompous old fart!" Tucker yelled.

"Keep your voice down, Commander," Malcolm said testily. "I've been trying to keep the peace around here, and you're not making my job any easier. You get the ambassador all wound up, and then I'm stuck for the rest of the afternoon trying to calm him down again. For two cents I'd lock you both in a room for the rest of our voyage and let you go at each other. It would serve you right."

"Lieutenant Reed!" Gral bellowed.

Trip's eyes narrowed belligerently, and he took a step toward the Tellarite. Malcolm quickly stepped in front of Tucker and planted his hand firmly on the commander's chest, halting his forward progress.

"Do you see those two security men over there?" Malcolm asked. He motioned with his head in their general direction.

Trip looked, nodded, and immediately turned back to glare at the ambassador.

"They're going to escort you to the Jefferies tube of your choice. You are to stay there until you calm down." Malcolm pulled himself up to his full height and stuck his hands on his hips. "And in the future, I expect you to exert a little self control when it comes to dealing with our exalted guests."

Tucker snorted disdainfully.

"This is no joke, Trip," Malcolm said seriously. "I can't have you stirring things up."

Looking down at the deck, Trip took a moment to process Malcolm's words. When he looked up again, his anger was gone.

Reed found this rather sudden transformation a little unsettling. Moments ago Trip looked like he could take on the world. Now he looked utterly defeated.

"I'm sorry, Malcolm," Trip said wearily. "It won't happen again. The ambassador just gets under my skin."

"Unfortunately you're not alone in that regard," Malcolm said ruefully. "There have been numerous occasions when I wanted to personally shove His Excellency out of the airlock. Just count your blessings that you don't have to spend all day with him. If things don't improve I may be forced to take to drink."

Tucker smiled wanly. "Anytime you want to get drunk just let me know. I've got a bottle and a couple of glasses."

"I may take you up on that." Reed motioned to his men and they came forward. "Try to stay out of trouble, Commander."

With a nod, Trip glanced once more time at Ambassador Gral and headed out of engineering. His escort kept a respectful two paces behind him.

Taking a deep breath, Reed turned back to the Tellarite. "If you've seen enough of engineering, Ambassador, may I suggest that we adjourn to the mess hall? I believe luncheon is being served."

"That garbage your chef serves is ruining my digestion," Ambassador Gral bellowed. "I intend to lodge a formal complaint with Starfleet!"

Malcolm fought hard to keep from rolling his eyes in exasperation. He'd heard it all before. Even the Tellarites were having a difficult time finding new things to gripe about.

Then the ambassador growled unexpectedly, "Commander Tucker is the only member of this useless crew who knows how to treat a guest."

For a split second Malcolm felt his world tilt on its axis. Any moment now he expected to awake from this nightmare, and his life would begin to make sense once again.

- - - - - - - - - -

The next morning, Reed was called to the captain's ready room. Normally he would have been anxious about such a summons, but this time he was too tired to care.

"Come on in, Malcolm, and have a seat," the captain said. He pointed to a chair to the right of the door.

Reed straightened his back and stood at parade rest. "I'd prefer to stand, sir," he stated firmly. Even though he was completely exhausted, Malcolm somehow couldn't bring himself to relax in front of the captain.

"Suit yourself," Archer said with a hint of a smile. "I just wanted you to know that I appreciate all you've done to keep our distinguished guests happy. The Tellarites are a difficult people. You're to be commended, Malcolm."

"Thank you, sir," Reed replied, smiling. "It's always nice to know that one's efforts are appreciated."

Archer ducked his head under a ceiling beam and began to pace. "I understand there was a problem in engineering yesterday."

_Now we get down to it_, Reed thought. "Commander Tucker and Ambassador Gral had words. I packed the commander off to a remote area of the ship and took the ambassador to lunch. It was no worse than any number of other arguments I've broken up over the past weeks."

The captain nodded then stopped by the window and looked out at the stars. "Was Trip out of control?" he asked quietly.

Malcolm shifted uneasily. "I wouldn't say he was out of control. He was vociferous in the defense of his engines. There's a difference." It was easy to see that the captain was worried. Reed felt it was necessary to say something to relieve his mind. "For what it's worth, sir, the ambassador thinks the world of the commander."

Archer spun around and stared at Malcolm with a surprised look on his face.

"Apparently Ambassador Gral thoroughly enjoyed his little set-to with Mr. Tucker. He maintains that Trip is the only one who truly understands him."

Archer smiled, but the sadness in his eyes remained. "I don't know how he does it, but Trip always finds a way make friends with people, even when he isn't really trying."

Reed returned the smile, but knew there was more to come. He didn't have long to wait.

"Malcolm, I'd like you to find Trip and bring him here. I want to see him," Archer said quietly.

Reed started over to the companel. "I'll just give him a quick call," he said uneasily.

"I've commed him. So has Hoshi. He doesn't answer."

"Maybe there's something wrong."

"I doubt it. I think he's trying to avoid everyone, and it's not going to work this time," Archer said. "This talk is long overdue. I'm counting on you to get him here, Lieutenant."

"But he really hasn't done anything wrong, sir," Reed said in a hushed tone.

Archer looked up at the beam over his head and took a deep breath. "Consider what might have happened if our guests had been members of a different species. Not everyone appreciates a good argument." Archer fixed his eyes on Malcolm. "Do you still think Trip did nothing wrong?"

Reed pressed his lips together and looked away.

"I expect more of my senior officers, Lieutenant. And I certainly expect more of my chief engineer."

As much as it hurt, Reed knew that the captain was right.

"Just get him, Malcolm," Archer said tightly. With a look of sadness on his face, the captain turned back to the viewport and his contemplation of the distant stars.

- - - - - - - - - -

Malcolm quickly discovered that finding the commander was almost as difficult as dealing with the Tellarites. According to the read-outs from the internal sensors, Tucker was not on board. "Damn it, Trip," Malcolm muttered under his breath as he sat hunched over his console on the bridge. "How did you manage to mask your biosigns?"

"Mr. Reed?"

Malcolm looked up and saw T'Pol staring at him. "I'm having trouble locating Mr. Tucker," he said, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice.

T'Pol ran her fingers over her console then shifted uneasily in her chair. She was outwardly calm, but Reed had worked with her long enough to tell that she was upset. "I think we should try to recalibrate the internal sensors," she said softly.

Working together, they were finally able to pinpoint the position of the elusive chief engineer, and Reed headed down into the bowels of the ship.

Striding down a little-used corridor, Malcolm turned a corner and caught sight of a pair of legs. The engineer lay on his back with the upper part of his body crammed into a narrow space behind one of the ship's access panels.

While Reed slowly walked over to Tucker, he pondered how best to handle the situation. He had to follow orders, but he wanted to do it in a way that wouldn't further alienate his friend.

Suddenly from below he heard, "I know you're there, Malcolm. I can see your feet."

"I can't put anything over on you." Malcolm allowed a crooked grin to play over his features. "How about coming out of there? I've never felt particularly comfortable conversing with a disembodied voice."

A hand appeared and tossed aside a pair of pliers then the engineer pushed himself out from beneath the circuits and relays. Glaring up at Malcolm, Tucker scrambled to his feet. After brushing himself off, Trip planted his hands firmly on his hips. He was dirty and disheveled and his body language screamed aggression. "So what's so important that you had to pull me away from my work?"

Taken aback, Reed bristled, "Is that how you greet your friends? I think I rate at least a 'good to see you.' Or how about asking after my health? If I wanted belligerence, my time could be better spent with Ambassador Gral."

Somewhat chastened, Tucker dropped his hands to his side and said, "Okay, how are you? I'll decide if it's good to see you when you get around to tellin' me why you're here."

"I don't suppose you'd believe that I was just out for a stroll and happened across a pair of legs that looked vaguely familiar?"

Tucker laughed derisively then sobered. "Cut the crap, Lieutenant, and tell me what you want."

"I don't want anything," Reed said quietly, "but the captain does. Your presence is requested in his ready room, ASAP."

A shadow passed over the commander's face. "Do you know why he wants to see me?"

"I believe it has something to do with your disagreement with the ambassador yesterday."

Tucker nodded then bent over to collect his tools.

Wanting to lighten the mood a little Reed observed, "Isn't it amazing that the only communicator on this ship that consistently malfunctions lately belongs to our chief engineer? It doesn't exactly instill confidence in your technical abilities, now does it?"

Trip tossed the last of his tools into his kit and plopped down on the deck. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

Malcolm watched him for a moment then walked over and sat down beside him. "Seriously, is there anything I can do, Trip? I hate to see you like this."

Sighing, Tucker turned his head and looked over at his friend. "There's nothing you can do, Malcolm, but thanks for askin'." He smiled weakly. "I just have to sort some things out, and I'll be back to my old self again. So much has happened this year. I just need a little time to come to grips with it all. Okay?"

Malcolm looked into his friend's eyes and clearly saw the anguish, but there was something more, something deeper that scared him. He thought for a moment. Resignation – yes, that was it. Trip really didn't believe that he would ever feel normal or happy or fulfilled again. He seemed to be resigned to the misery and loneliness that currently colored his life. Trip's demeanor reminded Malcolm of someone who felt obligated to do penance for some despicable crime. What in the world could he have done? What could make him believe that he deserved this empty, tormented life?

Tucker nudged Reed and said, "You're driftin' on me, Malcolm."

Reed quickly regained his composure. "Sorry. I was just thinking."

"Well," Trip said resignedly, "the captain's waiting." He turned to Malcolm. "I don't suppose you could tell him that you couldn't find me?"

"Emphatically no," Malcolm said firmly. "Besides, he'd just send T'Pol after you."

"Yeah," Trip sighed, "I guess that would be worse." He gathered his tools then slowly rose to his feet. "Thanks for comin' to get me, Malcolm, and for bein' my friend. I appreciate it."

Reed stood and patted the engineer's shoulder reassuringly. "Anytime you want to talk…"

"I know," Trip said before Malcolm could finish his thought.

"Just remember to bring the liquor," Reed said jokingly. "I have to be slightly drunk before your twisted logic begins to make sense."

Trip's gentle smile was all the reward Reed required. "Come on, let's go," Malcolm said. "We'll swing by your quarters. I think we can take five minutes to give you a chance to get cleaned up."

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

I would also like to thank everyone who has read the chapters I've posted. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review them.

CHAPTER 10: ARCHER

"Come in," Archer called when he heard the door chime.

Tucker walked into the ready room and stood nervously wiping his hands up and down his pant legs. "You wanted to see me, Captain."

"Do you know why I sent for you, Commander?" Archer tone of voice left no doubt that this wasn't a social visit.

Trip swallowed hard. His hands moved behind his back and he stood erect. "I guess you heard about my argument with Ambassador Gral."

Archer locked eyes with the commander. He'd been so worried about his friend that he'd allowed Trip's behavior to go unchecked. Now he had to regain some measure of control. The welfare of _Enterprise_ and her crew required it. But he had to do this the right way. Trip was already fragile emotionally. He didn't want to harm him any further.

"I realize that the ambassador is not an easy man to get along with, but I expect my senior officers to behave in a professional manner. That doesn't include picking fights or berating our guests in full view of the engineering staff."

Tucker dropped his head and compressed his lips.

"You need to get your anger under control. If you can't manage it by yourself, I want you to set aside time to see Doctor Phlox."

Trip jerked his head up and took a step forward. "Captain, I don't need…"

Archer raised one hand silencing Tucker. "I don't want to make it an order, but I will. I have a responsibility to Earth, to Starfleet and to the rest of this crew to ensure that nothing and no one casts a negative light on _Enterprise_. You've been through a great deal in the last few months and I've cut you a lot of slack, but things are getting out of hand."

"Please, Captain…"

"Don't interrupt, Commander," Archer snapped. "What if our guests hadn't been Tellarites? What would the Vulcans or the Andorians or, heaven help us, an even more sensitive species think of your confrontational attitude? As the chief engineer, you're supposed to set an example for the rest of the crew to follow. Your behavior lately had been unacceptable and it cannot…it will not continue."

Tucker stood silently, but his clenched jaw and the heightened color in his face clearly showed that he was barely keeping his emotions in check.

Archer lowered his voice, but continued with the same steely determination. "Do I make myself clear, Commander?"

"Yes, sir," Trip said tightly.

"Good." With Trip's affirmative reply, Archer wanted to relax, to deal with the young engineer as a friend, but he knew that was unwise. Trip needed structure. He needed discipline and a clear directive to seek help. Only the captain could do that.

"From here I want you to go directly to sickbay," Archer continued. "Doctor Phlox is expecting you. You will do whatever he tells you to do. Then you will report to the situation room at 1600 hours for a staff briefing. Are there any questions?"

Trip's features contorted as he bellowed, "You have no right…"

Archer quickly moved forward to confront him. "I have every right!" he barked. "This crew's welfare is my responsibility. Since you seem to want to do things the hard way, you leave me no choice but to make this an order, Commander, and I expect my orders to be obeyed."

The emotions that played across Trip's face quickly ran the gamut from intense rage to mind-numbing fear. Finally, in a choked voice he pleaded, "Why are you doing this to me? If you want me to apologize to the ambassador, I'll do it, but I don't need to see Phlox. There's nothing wrong with me that can't be cured by puttin' some distance between us and those damned Tellarites. I keep tellin' ya I'm fine. Why won't you believe me?"

"Because you're not fine!" Archer shouted. He grabbed both of Trip's shoulders firmly. He wanted to shake some sense into him, but figured that it would only be a waste of energy. "You aren't sleeping or eating. You've pulled away from everyone who cares for you. You're out of control, and your work has suffered because of it!"

"My work hasn't suffered," Tucker spat back. "This ship's in better shape now than it's ever been."

"_Enterprise_ is in good shape because of your engineering crew not because of you. You can't concentrate. You're making mistakes." Archer's hand shot out and grabbed Tucker's left wrist. He forced it up until it was in the engineer's line of sight. "These burns didn't just happen. You're getting careless! I'm not going to let other people get hurt because you're too stubborn to get the help you need!"

Tucker finally managed to yank his wrist out of Archer's grasp. He quickly hid his shaking hand with its three red, blistered patches of skin behind his back.

"The members of your crew don't even know how to communicate with you anymore," Archer stated. "You're so irritable all the time that it's easier for them to just avoid you. If they want something, they go Lieutenant Hess. I've been down to engineering several times in the last couple of days. I've seen it for myself." He allowed his voice to soften slightly. "That's not the kind of man you are."

The commander tried to take a step back toward the door, but Archer only held onto his right shoulder more tightly. "Just give me a little more time," Trip whispered. "I…"

"I'm sorry," the captain stated unequivocably, "time's up." He reached over and hit the comm button. "Archer to Lieutenant Reed."

"Reed here, sir."

"I want you to escort Commander Tucker to sickbay."

"No," Trip said in a strangled voice.

"Use all the men you need to get the job done. If he gives you too much trouble, put him in the brig and have Phlox see him there. Do you understand, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir," Malcolm said after a moment's hesitation. "Reed out."

"You're dismissed, Commander," Archer said quietly. He was struggling to keep the strong emotions he was feeling out of his voice. "I expect you in the situation room at 1600."

"Aye, sir," Tucker replied bitterly. The look of betrayal on his face was almost more than Jon could bear.

The door slid open. Malcolm stood uneasily in the doorway with his hands behind his back. "Commander, if you please."

Without another word, Trip turned and stormed out of the door.

"Damn," Jon muttered under his breath, then he hit the comm button. "Archer to sickbay."

"Yes, Captain."

"He's on the way, Doctor."

"Did things go well?"

"Not really," Archer said sadly. "I think you're going to have your hands full. Just do what you can for him."

"I understand. We'll just have to hope for the best. I'll keep you informed. Phlox out."

Jon found himself staring blankly at the door before him. It was no less a barrier than the ones Trip had erected to shut people out. The press of a button opened this door. What buttons could he press to break through Trip's defenses and reach his friend?

He fervently hoped that he'd done the right thing. _No_, Archer thought. He couldn't afford to second guess himself. He was the captain. He'd only done what was required of him. Anxious and upset, he began to pace back and forth across his ready room. Everything he'd said, everything he'd done had been for Trip's own good. Now it was up to Phlox. He was an excellent doctor. He would know what to do. And with T'Pol's help, in a few hours they would be ready to take the next step.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

I would also like to thank everyone who has read the chapters I've posted. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review them.

CHAPTER 11: T'POL

_Human males defy all logic_, T'Pol thought as she read through the data from the external sensors. She found it incomprehensible that the captain could honestly believe that a visit to a desolate planet would help solve Mr. Tucker's problems. The commander needed to be confined to sickbay, not taken on a camping excursion.

She looked up and saw the captain watching her. When their eyes met, he eagerly rose from his chair and quickly traversed the few steps to her science station. "How are you coming, T'Pol?" he asked quietly. "It's almost 1600."

"I believe I have all the information you require," she responded coolly. "However, I must reiterate that I do not believe that your decision is sound. Removing Commander Tucker from _Enterprise _will serve no useful purpose."

Archer glanced over at Hoshi. "This isn't the place for this conversation," he said quietly to his first officer. "Let's head back to the situation room."

With a nod, T'Pol rose gracefully and followed the captain.

When they reached the far end of the situation room Archer turned to her and said, "I know you think this won't work, but I have to try something. Trip is one of my oldest friends. I can't just stand by and do nothing."

"He needs medical help."

Archer nodded emphatically. "I agree with you, but he doesn't see it that way. Phlox and I have tried – and we'll keep on trying – but Trip has to want to get better. He has to accept the help that we're offering him."

"And removing him from _Enterprise_ will convince him to seek help?" she asked skeptically.

"Maybe it will, maybe it won't. I don't know," Archer continued forcefully. "I do know that he needs a change of scene, something that will get him away from engineering. He needs fresh air and exercise, and I'm going to see that he gets it."

T'Pol tried to keep her displeasure from showing on her face. "From what little I have been able to discern, this planet," she said, motioning to the wall monitor behind her, "will provide you with all of the exercise you seek, but you may have to look elsewhere for the fresh air."

Archer tilted his head and looked at her questioningly.

"EV suits will not be required, but the air on the planet barely meets minimal standards for sustaining human life. You may find breathing difficult."

She could tell that this was not what the captain wanted to hear. He gripped the edge of the table in the center of the room and lowered his head dejectedly. "I have to do this, T'Pol. I can't just stand by and…"

"Sickbay to Captain Archer."

Archer raised his head and took a deep breath. He reached over and pressed the button on the companel. "Yes, Doctor."

"Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed are on their way to the situation room. I've done all I can for the moment."

"Did he agree to cooperate?" Archer asked hopefully.

"He agreed to allow me to treat him today, but made no promises about returning at some future time. I'm afraid I'm not overly optimistic. I'm sorry, Captain."

T'Pol crossed her arms and hugged her body. At least the captain was trying to do something to help his friend. She was doing nothing. Was she willing to stand idly by while a good man destroyed himself? There had to be something she could do.

"I understand. Thank you, Doctor," the captain said quietly. "We'll talk again later. Archer out."

He turned to T'Pol. The anxiety she felt must have been obvious because his expression softened. "Are you ready, Commander?"

She forced herself to lower her arms and nod her head.

"Good," he said sincerely. "We'll get through this, T'Pol. All of us. We've come too far together to let it end this way."

End. The word echoed through her mind. She could lose him. She gave her head a tiny shake trying to drive the thought away. What would her life be like without him?

The turbolift door swished open and Commander Tucker stepped out, followed by Lieutenant Reed. Judging by the scowl on the commander's face, he had not enjoyed his visit to sickbay.

When she reached over to adjust the resolution on the star chart displayed on the viewscreen at the center of the table, she was disturbed to see that her hand was trembling. She needed to meditate, but there was no time for that now. Besides, she knew that she would find it difficult to discipline her mind. Her thoughts would only return to him.

Trip took his place at the far end of the table, but he sullenly kept his eyes downcast. Reed moved forward to stand next to him. When Archer directed a questioning look at the lieutenant, Malcolm frowned and shook his head.

The tension in the air was palpable as Travis and Hoshi quietly took their places around the table. When everyone was present Archer began, "We're very close to a planet which is largely a mystery. You can see it here on the Vulcan star charts." He pointed to an insignificant dot. "Because of its proximity to the Tellarite home world it may at some point have some strategic value for an enemy of the coalition. I think we should go down and take a look around." He looked over at Trip, but the commander stubbornly refused to meet his eyes. Sighing, he continued, "T'Pol, would you fill us in on what you've discovered so far."

T'Pol stood erect, gripping her hands tightly behind her back. "The planet appears to be in a formative stage. At present, over 98 of its surface is covered by water." She brought up a schematic of the planet. "There are three primary land masses: one near the northern pole at 15 degrees north latitude; one just below the equator; and one on the far side of the planet at about 40 degrees north latitude. The climate, in all but the pole location, is very warm and humid. The pull of gravity is slightly stronger than that to which we are accustomed and the air, while breathable, is far from optimal. As far as I am able to determine there are no lifeforms."

Malcolm looked pensive. "If it's so close to the Tellarites, why haven't they colonized it? You would think that they would want to at least set up an outpost for security purposes."

T'Pol shifted nervously. "The Tellarites feel that the planet has no strategic value. It also appears to offer little in the way of mineral deposits or other natural resources."

"Basically, it's a worthless, waterlogged hunk of rock," Trip growled.

"That is essentially correct." T'Pol glanced quickly over to Archer. "But that does not mean that it might not become important at some time in the future."

"I think we should go down and take a look around," Archer said. "It's always wise to be well-informed. Are you up for a little survey mission, Commander Tucker?"

Trip's head shot up. He was clearly surprised by the suggestion. "Why me?" he asked bewilderedly. "T'Pol's the science officer. Why not take her?"

"I thought you joined Starfleet to see new worlds," Archer said. "Here's your chance."

"This isn't exactly what I had in mind," Tucker shot back. "Besides we've been having trouble with the EPS grid. I need to stay on board until we find the problem."

"Your staff can take care of that."

"But…"

"We should be able to launch the shuttlepod in twenty minutes," T'Pol interjected quietly.

Archer nodded his head decisively. "You have twenty minutes to collect your gear." When Trip failed to move, he barked, "Is there a problem, Commander?"

"No, sir," Tucker grumbled, "but I want to go on record that explorin' this planet is a waste of time. Even the Tellarites think it's a piece of junk."

"So noted," Archer said with a frown. "Now go get ready."

"Well…" Tucker clearly didn't want to do this. He looked from Archer to T'Pol to Reed, but, finding no support, he turned and stalked toward the turbolift.

As the turbolift door closed behind the commander, Malcolm couldn't help but smile. He looked over at the captain. "A little R and R, sir?" he asked innocently.

Archer tried to stifle a grin, but wasn't completely successful. "I only wish it was Risa," he observed good-naturedly before turning his attention to T'Pol. "Drop off the ambassador and his party, then come back and pick us up. There and back should take a little over five days." He looked over to Mayweather for confirmation.

"Five days would be about right, sir," Travis said.

"Hoshi, we'll check in once a day at noon."

Ensign Sato nodded.

"Are there any questions?" Archer looked quickly from one face to another. "Good. Dismissed."

Hoshi and Travis immediately returned to their stations, but Malcolm lingered. "Doctor Phlox wanted me to give this to you," he said as he handed Archer a pocket-sized case. "The doctor's instructions are inside. He thinks this should take care of all of the commander's needs." Archer gripped the case and nodded grimly. "Doctor Phlox asks that you contact him immediately if you have any…concerns. He wishes you luck, sir," Malcolm said softly, "as do I."

"Thank you, Malcolm, and please thank Doctor Phlox."

"Well," Archer said as he pocketed the case, "I guess I should be getting ready, too. I'll just stop by and say a few quick words of farewell to Ambassador Gral." He paused and a smile spread wickedly across his lips. He looked pointedly at Malcolm and T'Pol. "It's a real pity that I won't be able to see him back to Tellar in person. I guess I'll just have to leave the Tellarite delegation in your capable hands." The smile turned into a broad grin, and Archer headed for the turbolift.

With the meeting at an end, T'Pol started back toward her station. As she left the situation room, she overheard Lieutenant Reed's whispered plea. "Please let this work."

- - - - - - - - - -

T'Pol questioned a great many things, but she knew one thing indubitably. She had to see Commander Tucker before he left. With his departure fast approaching, for once she didn't have time to worry about what was right or what was wrong. There was only her driving need. She hurried to his quarters and, without a second thought, pressed the door chime. When he hollered, "Come in," she entered.

Now what could she say to him?

Dressed in his beige desert shirt and khaki pants, Trip looked up from his packing. He seemed to be surprised to see her, but only said, "Hi," before stuffing a phase pistol and an extra pair of shoes into his duffle bag.

She shifted nervously while she tried to collect her thoughts. Finally, she asked, "Do you have everything you need?"

"Yeah." He grabbed a couple of padds off the bed and tossed them in the bag. "Were you in on that little charade?"

She raised an eyebrow questioningly. "I don't know what you mean."

"Come off it," Trip said bitterly as he turned to confront her. "You and I both know why I'm going on this fool's errand. The captain just wants to get me off the ship before I permanently mess up our relations with the Tellarites. I'm kinda surprised that he isn't sending me down to that godforsaken planet by myself. Maybe he doesn't trust me to stay put."

"I don't believe that is the case," T'Pol said tightly. "As a matter of fact, I think the captain welcomes the opportunity to distance himself from the Tellarites. They try his patience."

As he finished stowing his gear, T'Pol's mind drifted back to the last time she'd stood by and watched him pack. On that long ago day, he was transferring to _Columbia_. This time he would at least be coming back to her.

As she moved forward to stand next to him, her shoulder gently brushed against his upper arm. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked softly.

He stayed focused on the task at hand, refusing to meet her eyes. "All done," he said huskily as he finished closing the bag. He grabbed the duffle, but instead of leaving, he hesitated. After a moment, he angrily threw the bag back onto the bed and spun around to face her. "What are you doin' here, T'Pol? And don't tell me you want to help me pack!"

She gripped her hands behind her back as she willed herself to maintain her composure. He was standing so close. She could feel his breath against her cheek. "I just wanted to say good-bye. I trust you will be careful."

"I always am," he said softly. She expected him to sneer at her, but instead, he looked deeply into her eyes as though he was trying to figure her out. He must not have come to any conclusions because he finally said, "You'll have to excuse me now. The captain's waiting."

She looked up at him. There was so much she wanted to say, but the words that might bring him back to her died on her lips. Instead she murmured, "Maybe something good will come from this. It will give you a chance to relax."

"Not you, too!" Trip cried in exasperation. "Everybody keeps tellin' me to relax! I'm just fine, thank you very much. You're the one with the board up your back, Missy. Maybe you need to practice what you preach!"

Against her better judgment, T'Pol bristled. "Monitoring the welfare of this crew is my responsibility. Since you play a key role in the running of this ship, it is important that you remain at peak efficiency, yet you continually neglect your health. You must see that this cannot continue. Your friends and crewmates have offered to assist you, and you have rebuffed them. At some point, you must accept the fact that your behavior may bring about consequences which you will not find appealing."

"Don't worry, Commander," he said bitterly as he grabbed his duffle bag. "I get the message loud and clear. Shape up or ship out. Believe me, the thought has occurred to me more than once in the last few weeks. I suppose you and the captain will be real glad to get rid of me."

She was shocked. "Why would you say such a thing?" she whispered.

He shrugged, but obviously his last statement had rattled him as well. "I've been nothing but trouble to everybody lately. You'd both be better off without me." He took a couple steps around her. "Look, I gotta go."

In an instant he was out the door. She, however, stood riveted to the spot. Why hadn't she told him how she felt about him? And why did every discussion have to end in a fight? She sat down on his bed. Distractedly, she reached over, grabbed Trip's pillow, and held it close to her. She breathed in his scent and relived the moment when her arm had brushed against his. Both of them were miserable. They needed each other just as they needed sustenance and the air they breathed. When he returned to _Enterprise_, she would tell him everything. Maybe he could find it in his heart to forgive her and they could start over.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

I would also like to thank everyone who has read the chapters I've posted. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review them.

CHAPTER 12: ARCHER

_Two hours are a long time to pass in total silence_, Jonathan Archer thought as he piloted Shuttlepod Two down to the planet's surface. He could have put the ship on autopilot, but what would be the point? Trip hadn't uttered a single word since he entered the shuttlepod. He'd just staked out a spot on one of the benches, pulled a padd from his pocket, and begun reviewing maintenance reports.

Archer had expected him to be sullen and hostile, but that didn't appear to be the case. Trip was every inch a man who seemed to be resigned to his fate. That didn't mean, however, that down-deep he wasn't hurt and angry. Archer had been stunned when T'Pol told him, moments before they left, that Trip felt that this away mission was a form of punishment. Archer had just assumed that Trip would see this little jaunt the same way he did, as a chance to get away from the day-to-day grind of life on board _Enterprise_ and the strain of command.

The captain snuck a peek over his shoulder. Deep in concentration, Trip seemed to be totally oblivious to his surroundings. _Well_, Archer thought, _what did I expect_? He knew this wasn't going to be easy. He just wished that he had a plan. Life was always better when you had a plan.

Eyes front once again, Jon could see the planet clearly. It was little more than a drab, misshapen lump in space. There was nothing stimulating or inviting about it. He could only hope that the atmosphere hid its charms.

"We'll be landing in about ten minutes, Trip," Archer said as he swiveled around to face the engineer. "Why don't you make sure our gear is stowed away?"

"Aye, sir," Tucker said dutifully. He put aside his padd and started to rise. When he caught sight of the captain looking his way, he tried to smile, but it was half-hearted at best.

Archer watched as Trip's eyes slid toward the front viewport.

"Is that where we're headed?" Trip asked incredulously.

"Yep," Archer replied with more enthusiasm than he felt. "Looks interesting, doesn't it?"

Shaking his head, Trip turned back to check on the gear. "It's gonna be a long five days," he muttered under his breath.

A smile played across Archer's lips as he faced front again. That sounded more like his friend. Since he was more serious and reserved by nature, Archer had always enjoyed Trip's irreverent sense of humor. He could hear the commander moving around behind him. "When you get finished, I can use some help," Archer called out. The next thing he heard was a thud followed by a muttered oath. Moments later Trip appeared beside him.

"We're as ready to go as we'll ever be," Tucker said as he leaned forward slightly. "Where are we gonna set down? All I see is choppy grey water, and I didn't bring my water wings."

"Why don't you tell me?" Archer said and smiled. "Pull up a chair."

Tucker sat down in the co-pilot's seat and began to scan the surface. "Land ho," he mumbled. His fingers moved rapidly as he made adjustments to the scanner. "I'm not seeing much that's flat."

"What's our best bet?"

Tucker knitted his brow as he concentrated on the screen before him. "I'd say…twelve…no make that ten degrees to port." He looked over at the captain. "You should see a landing site in about a minute and a half."

Archer nodded. The shuttlepod left the vast seas behind and passed over several mountain peaks before sweeping down closer to the surface. As they descended they entered a layer of dense fog.

"Talk to me, Trip."

"Come starboard two degrees," Tucker said. "Slow it down. We're close. Just a few more seconds. There." Tucker pointed to a small clearing barely visible through the heavy mist.

"Good man," the captain muttered as he turned his full attention to landing the craft. The clearing was small, but, even with his vision obscured, Archer set the shuttlepod down with ease. As the ship powered down, he sat transfixed by the sight before him.

"Are you sure about this?" Trip asked warily as he stared out at the soggy terrain which was barely visible through the thick yellowish fog.

Archer checked the external sensors. "T'Pol was right about the atmosphere. It may not look pretty, but we should have enough oxygen to breathe. We'll be able to adapt to the change in gravity. We just have to take things slowly at first."

Trip checked the meteorological data. "It's going to be real cozy out there -- 38 degrees C. And the humidity stands at 92." He cast an aggrieved look at the captain. "Maybe this place looks better from a different angle." Trip got up, headed over to the hatch and opened it. "Nope," he muttered dejectedly as hot, fetid air filled the shuttlepod. "If anything, it's worse."

When Archer moved over to stand beside him, Trip observed unhappily, "We can't see more than six feet in front of us. Anything could be out there."

"T'Pol said there were no lifeforms."

"I hope she's right," Trip mumbled. "I guess if I had a choice, I wouldn't want to live here either. The smell alone would keep me away."

"At least the Tellarites were wrong about the natural resources."

Tucker looked at him questioningly.

"They ought to be able to find a number of uses for sulfur."

"Hmph," Tucker snorted. "Ambassador Gral ought to feel right at home."

Archer smiled and shook his head. "I don't even think the Ambassador deserves this." He slapped Tucker soundly on the back. He was surprised that Trip's shirt was already damp to the touch. "Well, I guess we better set up camp." He turned and headed toward the back of the shuttlepod.

"Out there?" Tucker sounded shocked. "You've got to be kiddin' me."

"The sooner we set up camp, the sooner we can start to explore."

"You try explorin' in this soup, and you're probably gonna break a leg," Trip grumbled. "Don't expect me to save your sorry ass if you do."

Archer tossed a duffle bag in the commander's direction. Trip caught it awkwardly before it hit the deck. "After you, Mr. Tucker," Archer said as he came up behind the engineer. He had a large bag tossed over his right shoulder and held another smaller case in his left hand. "You start setting up the tent. I'll start a fire."

"If you say so." Trip turned and stuck his head out of the hatch. He looked around and seeing nothing threatening stepped gingerly out of the shuttlepod. He'd barely reached the ground when a large bag landed at his feet.

"Here," Archer said as he handed the small case to the commander, "I'll get the rest of the gear. Get started on the tent." The captain looked up at the sky. "I want to be sure the camp is set up before it gets dark."

"Aye, sir," Tucker said in a dejected tone of voice. "I'll get right on it." He dropped the duffle bag he was holding and knelt to open it. "Nothin' like a camp-out," he muttered under his breath. "Hope Chef packed the hotdogs and the marshmallows." He started to assemble the tent as Archer dropped the gear he was carrying and began to search for some rocks.

Both men worked in silence. After years spent together, they were able to communicate intuitively with a glance or a simple motion of a hand. Unfortunately, with the poor quality of the air and stronger pull of gravity, they discovered that they tired easily, necessitating frequent breaks. By the time they finally finished setting up camp, it was beginning to grow dark.

"I'm hungry," Archer said as he pulled the hem of his shirt up to wipe the sweat off his face. "How about you?"

"Yeah, I guess I'm kinda hungry. What's for dinner?"

Archer leaned over, picked up a container, and held it out for the commander's inspection as though the crown jewels rested inside. "I couldn't convince Chef that hotdogs were an acceptable meal for two hearty explorers, but he sent along some pulled pork barbecue and potato salad. He even managed to produce a couple of ears of corn from the stasis unit. How's that for a picnic?"

In spite of himself, Tucker grinned. "Sounds pretty damn good. I don't suppose you remembered to bring the beer?"

"The beer's on ice in the shuttlepod. You go get a couple of bottles, and I'll start heating things up. Oh, and grab a lantern while you're in there." Archer put down the container, picked up his phase pistol and fired. "Heated rocks may not make a great campfire, but I think we can make do," he said as the rocks began to glow.

"Be right back," Tucker hollered as he disappeared into the shuttlepod. After a few minutes, he emerged with the glowing lantern in one hand and two bottles in the other. He set the lantern down on the ground near the captain. "It smells a whole lot better out here now," he said eagerly. "When I smell barbecue cookin', it sure brings back a lot of happy memories. My mama makes the best…" Suddenly Trip sobered and dropped his head dejectedly.

"Sit down, Trip," Archer said. He reached up and took one of the bottles out of the commander's hand.

Tucker slumped down next to the captain. He bowed his head and slowly rubbed his right temple.

"I probably should have told you about this weeks ago," Archer said quietly. "I spoke with Admiral Gardner. He told me that there is no evidence that your parents were in any way actively associated with Terra Prime."

"They were members," Tucker said in a strained voice.

"Yes," the captain answered carefully. "But once they understood Paxton's motives and the aims of his organization, they severed all connections with Terra Prime. That half-assed report should never have been sent to _Enterprise_. It was inaccurate and misleading. Just forget about it."

Trip shook his head.

"We all make mistakes, Trip, even parents." Archer's heart broke when he saw the need in Trip's face. It was obvious that he desperately wanted to believe what Jon was telling him, but he just couldn't bring himself to let go of his anger. "When we get back to _Enterprise_, why don't you contact them?"

"I can't…"

"Sure you can," Jon said soothingly. "At least give them a chance to explain. They deserve that much, don't you think?"

"I guess…I don't know," Trip mumbled. "Let me think about it."

"That's fair," Archer said. "You've got four more days to do nothing but think." He opened his bottle of beer and took a drink. "I don't know about you, Commander, but I'm hungry. What do you say we eat?"

Tucker nodded and gave Archer a feeble smile.

As Tucker reached for his plate, Archer raised his bottle. "To better days ahead."

Tucker opened his bottle and clinked it against the captain's. "Better days," he murmured and drank deeply.

Dinner passed in companionable silence. Archer was surprised that, even with disconcerted thoughts of his parents spinning through his head, Tucker had no trouble cleaning his plate.

With the meal done and the dishes cleaned and stowed away, Archer had to admit that he was ready to call it a night. Unfortunately, he could tell that his friend was still wide awake. The hot stifling air and their damp clothes weren't going to make things any easier for Trip. "Are you going to have trouble sleeping tonight? Phlox packed some sedatives, if you think you're going to need some help."

Tucker poked fitfully at the heated stones with a long, narrow rock fragment. "Nah," he mumbled. "I'm pretty tired tonight. Besides, I know Phlox doesn't want me to get too dependent on sedatives."

Archer found that unsettling. "I didn't know you were still taking sedatives. I thought you were using neuropressure to help you sleep."

Trip shifted nervously and looked off into the fog.

"It's hardly a secret, Trip," Archer said with a chuckle. "The whole ship knows that you and T'Pol have had neuropressure sessions on and off over the last couple of years."

When his friend remained reticent, Archer forged onward. "So, neuropressure – what's it like exactly? Like a massage?"

"Kinda," Trip muttered.

"Clothes come off?" Archer said teasingly.

Trip's head whipped around. "It's not what you're thinkin'," he snapped. "T'Pol was just helpin' me sleep. That's all!"

Archer tried to hide his smile. Since the trial, it was common knowledge that Trip and T'Pol had been involved in a romantic relationship. The smile began to fade when he thought about the strain that the death of their child had put on that relationship.

Jon knew he shouldn't tease his friend, but he was willing to do just about anything to break the hold that depression had on Trip. "Maybe I should try neuropressure some time," he said jokingly. "I could use a little relaxation every now and then."

Trip froze. He seemed to be searching desperately for something to say. Finally, he mumbled, "Yeah. Sure. Neuropressure's great. T'Pol's great…to help me." Trip swallowed and tried again. "She's great to help me…to take her time…," his words trailed off to a whisper. "I'm sure she'd help you, too."

This was not the reaction Archer had expected. Too late, he realized that this was not a subject to be taken lightly. Evidently neuropressure had become an important part of their relationship. The awkward silence convinced him that it was time for a change of topic.

Just as he was about to speak Trip said wistfully, "Do you ever think about starting a family?" He looked at Archer searchingly. "You know, a wife, 2.3 kids, a house you can't afford, a dog." He shifted restlessly. "I guess you've already got the dog, but…well…you know what I mean."

Now that Trip was finally opening up, Jon knew that he needed to keep things going, even if it wasn't exactly a topic he felt comfortable talking about just now. "I see what other people have, and it looks pretty good. But I guess I'm just not very good husband material." Jon looked up to see his friend staring at him intently. "Besides _Enterprise_ is a pretty demanding mistress," he continued with a touch of humor in his voice. "She's too much competition for most women."

"Is there someone special?" Trip asked quietly. "Someone you'd give it all up for?"

Archer took a deep breath and raised his head to gaze at the fog-shrouded sky. He thought about his life, about his father's dream of space travel, about his own needs as a man and about a lovely woman who had captured his heart. As he turned back to Trip, he said, "Yeah…yeah there is," he paused then added ruefully, "but she's already spoken for."

Tucker sat motionless. The lantern cast a golden glow over his features, but it was the shadows that dominated his face. The ebullience that had once sparkled in his eyes had been replaced by pain and desolation.

Archer grasped his friend's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Trip, there's something I need to tell you." When the engineer didn't respond he continued. "When we were in the Expanse, I pulled away from everyone, especially you, and I want to say that I'm sorry."

Trip straightened, twisting his body slightly to loosen Archer's grip. "Please don't do this, Cap'n. You were just doin' what had to be done." He started to rise. "I guess maybe getting some sleep is a good idea."

"No you don't." Archer tightened his grip. "I need to say this and you need to listen, so just sit back down. That's an order."

Tucker quit struggling and settled back down, but it was obvious that he wasn't happy about where the conversation was headed.

"There haven't been many people in my life who have really meant a lot to me," Archer began, "just my Mom, my Dad, the Ericksons…and you, Trip." He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. "The thought of losing any member of my crew was difficult, but the thought of losing you was almost more than I could bear. I had to pull away from you in order to do my job. Somehow, after it was all over, we just never reconnected. That was mainly my fault, too."

Trip shook his head vigorously. "That's not true. You just did what you had to do. I've always known you were my friend. Always!"

"More than just friends, Trip. You're the little brother I never had." Tucker's body stiffened noticeably. "The days we've spent together have been some of the happiest of my life. That's why it's so important for you to let us…to let me help you to feel more like your old self."

"I'm sorry, Cap'n," the young engineer said, his voice strained.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Life's dealt you a pretty difficult hand lately, but you can't let things get you down. Go see Phlox when we get back to _Enterprise_. Let him help you." Archer squeezed Trip's shoulder again to emphasize his point. "Will you do that for me?"

Trip's eyes remained downcast, but he managed to nod his head.

"Good." Archer felt a surge of relief. "There's just one more thing I'd like you to do for me. For the next few days, while we're here on this planet, I'd appreciate it if you'd call me Jon."

That was too much for Trip. His hands came up to cover his eyes and he began to sob quietly. Archer gently squeezed his shoulder and whispered soothingly, "It's okay, Trip. Just let it out. Things will get better. You'll see."

Finally, as the tears began to subside, Tucker stuck out his hand. Archer couldn't help but smile as he laid a couple of tissues across his chief engineer's palm then listened as he vigorously blew his nose.

"Feel better."

"Yeah, I guess so," Trip sniffed. "Sorry to be such a pain in the ass."

"No problem. Do you think you can get some sleep now?"

"I'll try." The commander rose slowly. "Well, good night. And thanks."

As Trip headed for the tent and his sleeping bag, Archer called after him, "Sleep well."

Jon sat quietly, wrapped in his thoughts of the happy, energetic friend who'd filled his life with so much joy. He wanted that man back again. As he stared off into the distance, he felt a breeze begin to stir. He reveled in the slight coolness he felt when it hit his sweat-soaked shirt. He almost called Trip to come back out and enjoy it with him, but the engineer needed to rest.

Slowly, the fog began to move and dance as the breeze picked up. It was almost like watching a living being. Archer yawned and stretched. Breeze or no breeze, he was tired and his sleeping bag was calling to him. He rose and headed for the tent. They'd made a good start tonight. Trip had always been there for him. Now it was his turn to be strong and help Trip find his way back.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

I would also like to thank everyone who has read the chapters I've posted. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review them.

CHAPTER 13: TRIP

Trip knew that he should get some sleep, but he couldn't settle down. Time had passed, but he wasn't sure if it had been five minutes or five hours. His brain was spinning like the wheels of a bicycle with a broken chain. No matter how fast his mind worked, his thoughts just didn't seem to go anywhere. The conversation with Archer kept playing through his head. _We all make mistakes…severed all connections with Terra Prime…go see Phlox…little brother I never had…I'd appreciate it if you'd call me Jon_.

Trip rolled onto his back and, raising his arms, interlaced his fingers behind his head. He tried desperately to focus his thoughts. In truth, he wasn't quite sure how to feel. He and the captain had been friends for over a decade. Sure, there had been some rocky patches, but even in the darkest times each man knew he could count on the other. The need to further define their friendship had never seemed necessary.

The little brother I never had.

Trip shifted nervously. A part of him was happy. Archer had grown so distant in the Expanse that Trip wasn't sure there was much of a friendship left to salvage. He thought that he'd become just another member of the crew. Now the captain not only wanted to be his friend, but readily acknowledged that their relationship went far deeper. Trip wasn't sure why it should mean so much to him, but it did.

But what did this deepening friendship really mean for him? Trip knew that the captain sometimes needed a confidant, and in the past he had always tried to be there for him. When the captain was down, he needed someone to boost his spirits. If he was lonely, he wanted someone to keep him company. If he had doubts or fears, he needed a sounding board.

Trip had done all of that and more over the years. He just wasn't sure that he had the strength to keep on doing it. How could he boost someone else's spirits when he had trouble seeing any joy in his own life? How could he offer companionship when all he wanted to do was lock himself away from the world? How could he provide reassurance when every waking moment was filled with doubts and fears? He just couldn't be the friend…the brother that the captain wanted or needed.

How long would Archer continue to put up with his temper and his stubbornness? He'd already driven T'Pol away. He'd broken with his parents. How long would it be before he drove the captain, Malcolm and all of the others away, too? And when that happened, when he had alienated everyone who meant anything to him, his failure would rise up and squeeze the life from him.

Maybe he should do what the captain said. Maybe he should talk to Phlox. He knew he wasn't well. What if he did something that might endanger the ship or the crew? Restless, he rolled over on his side. No. He could never acknowledge that he was sick.

He was a Starfleet officer – supposedly the best of the best. How long would he be able to stay on _Enterprise_ or any other ship, for that matter, once Starfleet found out that he'd had some sort of mental breakdown? He'd be branded for the rest of his life as unstable and unreliable. His career would be over. If he was lucky, he might be able to get some low-level desk job in research and development, but he'd never be tapped to head a project. He'd never be to allowed to push Starfleet's engines to warp 7 and beyond. And he'd certainly never be put in command of a ship. He could hear the whispers in his head. _Don't put too much pressure on Tucker; he can't handle the stress. You don't want him to fall apart like he did on Enterprise, do you_?

He'd lose everything. Nope. He had to work through this on his own. After all, he'd done it before. He knew he wasn't weak. He'd handled stress and grief and loss. He'd survived the Expanse. T'Pol was right. What's done is done. He had to put everything behind him and move on.

But move on to what? Did he even have a future?

Trip sat up abruptly and rubbed his eyes. There was no way he was going to get any sleep tonight. He needed to move around, but he had to do it quietly so that he didn't wake the captain. He threw open the tent flap and crawled outside. Sometime in the night a breeze had pushed the fog away. It was still muggy, but at least it was bearable.

As he stood up, he took a deep breath and looked around. The silence was oppressive. What he wouldn't give for the sound of a cricket or the gentle murmur of rustling leaves. Trip shuddered. This ugly, god-forsaken planet was as empty and worthless as his life had become.

He tilted his head back and focused his attention on the stars. They reminded him of his childhood fantasies: heroic dreams of spaceships and exciting adventures on alien worlds. All of those had now turned to dust.

Lost in thought, he started to pick his way over the uneven ground. He moved sluggishly, the added pull of gravity weighing him down.

When he'd left on _Enterprise_'s maiden voyage he was brimming over with naïve enthusiasm, but what had it gotten him? Yes, he'd seen some amazing sights, but overshadowing all of them were the endless tragedies. Every first contact revealed an enemy and a potential threat to the continued existence of humankind. He wanted to be an explorer, but he was, in fact, nothing more than a glorified mechanic with a gigantic bulls-eye on his back. That wasn't how he wanted to live his life.

He used to look forward to each new planet, each new star or comet or nebula, with awe and anticipation. Now all he could muster was fear for what the future might hold. Who would be maimed next? Who would be killed? How many people would die because of him?

Tired, Trip flopped down on a patch of dry ground and leaned back against a large rock. He'd failed everyone who'd ever counted on him.

When he was twelve he'd made a pledge to his sister Elizabeth that he'd always be there for her. Once, during a family vacation, she'd wandered off and gotten lost in the woods. It was hours before they'd finally found her, hungry, frightened and completely exhausted. That night, when she woke up crying, Trip wrote out his promise to her that he would always be there to protect her. He'd rolled it up, slipped a rubber band around it and placed it under her pillow. Then he sat by her bed until she went back to sleep. When the family returned home, the rolled up pledge went with them. When she grew older, Lizzie had it framed and hung it on the wall in her bedroom as a constant reminder that her big brother loved her and promised to keep her safe. But he didn't keep that promise. Now the home, the promise, and Lizzie were all gone.

He felt his throat constrict as the visions from his nightmares returned in full force. His sister was so lovely, so vibrant, until that unforgiving beam of fire obliterated all trace of her. Thinking only of himself, he'd blithely headed off into space and left her behind, alone and unprotected. And she'd died horribly. She died because of his callous disregard.

He'd failed Taylor, Kumata and all of the other crewmen who lost their lives in the Expanse. It was his responsibility to keep the ship and the crew safe, and he'd failed. He'd stepped over and on bloody, mangled bodies to keep the engines online. He'd put machines over men, and men had died because of it.

Ensign Masaro had put a phase pistol to his head and blew his brains out because of him. The Cogenitor had killed itself because he couldn't mind his own business.

And his little Elizabeth… What kind of a father was he to let his child die before she even had a chance to live? There must have been something he…

"Trip," Archer said softly, a look of genuine concern on his face, "are you all right?"

Trip rubbed his hand roughly over his eyes and sniffed. "Yeah," he said finally. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake ya."

"A full bladder woke me up. When I looked around you were gone. Do you want to talk about whatever's bothering you?"

There were no words, nothing he could say. Finally he managed to mumble, "It's nothing to keep you awake, Cap'n."

Archer crouched down next to Trip. "Come on back to bed. I'll dig out one of the sedatives Phlox sent along. At least you can get one decent night's sleep."

Trip braced his right hand against the rock and levered himself up. "Thanks," he murmured once he was on his feet. "A sedative sounds pretty good."

They headed back the way they'd come, guided by the faint light from the lantern inside their tent. When they reached the tent, the captain bent down and crawled through the opening. He immediately began rummaging around in his duffle bag. By the time Trip finished crawling into the tent, Archer was ready, hypospray in hand. Trip lay down on his sleeping bag and tilted his head to one side. The hypospray hissed as Archer pressed it against his neck. He was so worn out, mentally and physically, that it only took a few moments for him to feel drowsy. He rolled over on his left side with his back to Archer. Already half asleep, he thought he felt the captain gently rubbing his back. It was soothing and reminded him of his mother's tender touch. As a child, when he was restless or didn't feel well, she'd rub his back and sing him to sleep. He missed those times. He missed her. He…

- - - - - - - - - -

"Let's make one more pass over those craters," Archer said from his place in the co-pilot's seat, as he continued to gather data from the external sensors. "I don't think those volcanoes are as dormant as they appear to be."

Trip smiled, nodded and banked the shuttlepod to port. He was almost afraid to admit how good he felt. Somehow over the past few days, despite the discomfort and the primitive conditions, he'd started to climb out of the deep, dark hole he'd been trapped in for so long. Grudgingly, he had to admit that the doctor's magic hyposprays might have helped a little bit, but it was more than that. A change of scene had allowed him to distance himself from many of his problems. He knew he'd have to deal with them sooner or later, but for now, he was happy to put the anguish behind him, even if it was only for a little while.

They'd spent their first two days on the planet surveying all three land masses. They mapped, photographed, took samples and scanned from the minute they got up until they fell into their sleeping bags at night, and Trip reveled in it. The fact that the sensor data they collected would provide Starfleet with a wealth of information was only the icing on the cake.

On the third day, they flew over portions of the vast seas recording the configuration of the ocean floor. When they found that the oceans were teeming with amoeba-like creatures, Tucker could hardly wait to tell Phlox. He knew the doctor would be thrilled. As a matter of fact, they'd probably be hard put to keep the doctor from rushing down to the planet for a little research of his own.

As Trip flew the small craft over two massive volcanoes, he allowed his mind to wander. Could this planet be on the same evolutionary path as Earth? For some reason, he found that idea very appealing. Would dinosaur-like creatures one day rule this planet? Would humanoids someday walk the same ground he and the captain had just traveled?

"We've been cooped up all morning," Archer said, interrupting the engineer's reverie. "What do you say we take a walk?"

Tucker turned his head toward Jon and grinned broadly. "You're thinkin' about those mountain hot springs we saw near the polar region, aren't ya?"

"Yep," Archer said as he smiled back at his friend. "If I remember correctly, the ground's too rough to land near the base of the mountain range. We'll have to set down a couple of miles away and hike in."

"I don't know about you, but I could use some exercise," Trip said happily. "Chef packed enough food for half a dozen MACOs. I think I've gained five pounds already."

"You have been pretty free with the fork and spoon lately."

"I don't want Chef to think that I don't appreciate his cookin'."

When they approached their destination, Trip noted that the mountains that loomed ahead were rough and angular. There was a raw newness about them that was almost intimidating. They seemed to graphically represent the explosive forces of nature that continued to shape this world. "It looks like our best bet for a landing site is gonna be about two and a half miles from the hot springs."

"Sounds good," Archer responded. "Set her down."

When they were safely on the ground, Archer quickly checked the temperature gauge. "It's quite a bit cooler outside: 7 degrees Celsius. I guess we better break out the jackets."

Trip quickly located the jackets and tossed one to Archer before donning his own. Grabbing a backpack, he checked to see that it contained everything he needed. He only hesitated for a moment before sticking in his phase pistol. Common sense told him that there wasn't anything out there, but it never hurt to be prepared.

"I don't think we'll need climbing gear," Archer said. "Are you ready?"

Trip snatched his backpack. "Let's go."

They moved at a slow but steady pace across the vast lava fields, stopping at regular intervals to rest. All around them huge boulders and gigantic slabs of rock littered the ground at odd angles. Trip couldn't help but be reminded of the game of pickup sticks his grandmother had given him when he was seven years old. Sometimes it seemed like they were doing more climbing up and over the dark, lumpy mounds than walking.

They'd been at it for about thirty minutes when Trip began to feel uneasy. Something wasn't right. "Jon, you're gonna think I'm crazy," he said hesitantly, "but I think we oughta turn back."

The captain slid down a steeply sloped slab of rock, dusted his hands off on the back of his pants and gave his full attention to his chief engineer. "What's wrong? Don't you feel well?"

Trip squirmed a little before he answered, "I feel fine. It's just a feeling I have. I think we should head back to the shuttlepod."

"There isn't a cloud in the sky," Archer said softly as his head swiveled from side to side. "It's perfectly quiet. There isn't even any wind. What do you know that I don't?"

"Nothing, I guess," Trip replied reluctantly. "Whatever we're breathin' must be makin' me paranoid." He took a look up at the pale ocher sky then shook his head. "There's nothing wrong. I'm sorry I slowed us down."

"Don't apologize for being careful," Archer said, as he looked intently at his friend. "We've come this far. Why don't we keep going?"

"Sounds good," Trip said then took a deep breath.

Archer took the lead and Tucker followed, but he did so with a heavy heart. He just couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking into trouble. He kicked at a couple of small stones petulantly as he moved along. Why should he be the one to put a damper on things? He wasn't clairvoyant. This feeling was just a product of his overactive imagination.

The two men slowed when they reached a pair of rugged hills which served as a natural gateway to the mountain range beyond. They spied a small reasonably flat area at the base of the first of these hills and headed for it. "Why don't we take a break," Archer said when they reached the spot. He looked over at Trip, who nodded in agreement. Shrugging out of his backpack, Jon immediately sat down on the rocky ground and began rummaging around in his pack.

Trip took a drink from his water pouch, all the while studying the towering cliffs in the distance. "Are you sure we aren't going to need climbing gear? Those mountains are straight up and straight down."

"Don't worry," Archer said. He moved over so that he was sitting next to his friend. Switching his half-eaten energy bar to his left hand, he pulled a padd from his jacket pocket and handed it to Trip. "There's a narrow gap between these two hills." He pointed to the padd then gestured over to the left. "Once we get through that gap, it's about half a mile to this plateau. The hot springs are on the top. It should be an easy climb – less than 100 feet."

Trip tapped the padd absent-mindedly against his left hand and stared off into the distance.

"Trip?" Archer nudged his friend's left arm. "You're still worried, aren't you?"

After a moment, Trip straightened his back and took a deep breath. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I just can't shake this feeling that we're walking into trouble. Pretty silly, huh?"

Archer put his arm around Trip's shoulders. "If you want to head back, that's okay with me. It's your call."

"But we're so close to the hot springs."

"That's not important. Tell me what you want to do."

Trip turned and looked Jon squarely in the eyes. "I want to get the hell out of here."

Archer clapped the engineer on the shoulder and stood up. "If I want to see hot springs, I'll pay a visit to Yellowstone. We've made scans from the air. That's good enough. Let's head back to the shuttlepod."

As Trip started to rise, the ground suddenly gave a tremendous lurch and began to shake violently. Instinctively, he grabbed for Archer in an attempt to steady himself.

Trip looked up and, seeing rocks breaking free from the hill above, instantly braced himself and shoved Archer out of the way. Before he could protect himself, rock fragments struck his body, staggering him. He tried to keep his footing as the ground heaved and shook, but he was quickly knocked off his feet, falling hard onto his back. He fought to focus his eyes, only to see rocks of all shapes and sizes tumbling toward him. Quickly, he threw his arms up to protect his face as he was struck several more times in quick succession. Dazed and in pain, he rolled over on his side and curled into a ball with his arms thrown up to protect his head. He felt a blow to his ribs that drove the air from his lungs just as another rock slammed into his right arm. The rumblings of a world tearing itself apart deafened him as the ground shook furiously beneath him. He coughed as clouds of rock dust filled the air, clogging his nose and throat.

Just as suddenly as they'd started, the tremors stopped. Trip lay curled tightly into himself as a few more stray rocks continued to rain down, and then everything was quiet. For a time, he remained motionless, fearing that the tremors would start again. Finally, he lowered his arms enough to peek out at the debris-strewn land around him.

"Jon?" he managed to croak weakly. He tried to sit up, but he could only manage to raise his upper body enough so that he could lean on his left forearm. "Cap'n?" Nothing and no one moved. Slowly, he raised a trembling hand to try and clear the grit from his eyes. He blinked several times and shook his head, but his vision still remained blurred. Squinting, he looked out at a world dominated by shades of black and grey. There were only vague shapes and nothing looked human.

His eyes frantically scanned the ground about him until they finally rested on a familiar looking lump. "Capn?" he whispered. His sluggish mind tried to process what he was seeing. Suddenly the tumblers clicked into place. "Cap'n!" He knew he couldn't stand yet, so he lowered his upper body and slowly began to crawl over to his fallen friend.

One thought echoed over and over in his head. _He's dead because of you!_

When he reached Archer's body, Tucker stretched out his right arm, but just before his fingers made contact, he hesitated. If the captain was dead, how could he deal with the crushing weight of another tragic loss? Slowly, a bright spark of reason burned through the fear. Knowing was better than not knowing. Besides, if the captain wasn't dead, he needed help immediately.

"Wake up, Cap'n," Trip pleaded as he grabbed Archer's shoulder and shook it. When he got no response, his fingers moved to Archer's neck. A wave of relief swept over him when he felt a pulse beating beneath his fingertips. Brushing away dust and debris as he went, he moved his hands carefully over Archer's arms, legs, and back, trying to assess the damage. Nothing appeared to be broken. He decided to risk moving his friend. Arranging Archer's arms over his head, Trip pushed up and over, rolling the captain onto his back. Opening Archer's jacket, Tucker once again tried to check for broken bones. Everything, including the captain's ribs, appeared to be intact, but when Trip checked Archer's head, his hand came away bloody.

Trip anxiously looked around. The captain had taken off his backpack. If he could find it, it would be easier to use Archer's medkit than try to reach his own. He finally spotted the backpack peeking out from underneath a pile of stones. He crawled over, grabbed one of the straps with his left hand and pulled. After tugging a couple of times, it came loose, and he dragged it over to where the captain lay. Slowly, he pulled his battered body into a sitting position.

Digging around in the backpack, he finally located the medkit and removed the medical scanner. It appeared to be working, but since he was having trouble focusing his eyes, he had to content himself with hoping for the best. Turning the captain's head to the side, he scanned his wound before quickly running the scanner over the rest of Archer's body. Shaking his head, Trip tried to clear his vision long enough to read the results. A concussion – that wasn't exactly a big surprise. He wasn't a hundred percent certain, but he didn't think there was anything worse. That was assuming, of course, that the scanner hadn't been damaged and that he was able to correctly make out the readings.

Slowly, his first aid training kicked in. With trembling hands, he used sterile wipes to remove the blood and clean the wound. Then he applied an antiseptic and wrapped a bandage around Archer's head to control the bleeding. When he was finished, he patted the captain's cheek a couple of times. "Come on, Cap'n," he said anxiously, "you gotta wake up now." When he got no response, he frantically slapped a little harder. "Cap'n, we have to get back to the shuttlepod. Open your eyes!" Trip dropped his head in defeat. It was no use. He was on his own. Reaching into the backpack one more time, he removed a thermal blanket and did his best to cover his friend.

When he'd done all that he could do, Trip shakily leaned back against a rock. He was so cold. Shivering, he wrapped his arms tightly around his body. He looked over at Jon, but then guilt forced him to turn away. As he slowly rocked back and forth, he mumbled over and over, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

Trip made no effort to wipe away the tears that filled his eyes and slowly snaked their way down his cheeks. His befogged brain struggled to make sense of everything that had happened. The wound was on the side of the captain's head. If the rock slide caused the injury, wouldn't the wound be on the back of his head? Sure it would…wouldn't it? Trip sniffed and dipped his head. When he shoved the captain, Jon must have hit his head. Now his friend was going to die out here in the middle of nowhere, and it was his fault.

A searing pain, not of the body but of the spirit, shot through Trip. Another friend had trusted him. Another friend was going to die. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to stop the tears and blot that ugly thought from his mind. There had been so much death and violence. He wasn't sure that he could take any more. Why did he always fail the people he cared for the most? Why couldn't he save them?

Finally, he sniffled, raised his head and looked around. He knew he had to pull himself together. The captain wasn't dead yet, but he would be if he didn't get some help. Trip reached over and pulled the blanket up under Jon's chin. He had to think.

After forcing himself to calm down and review their situation, Trip decided that he had three choices: he could stay where he was and wait for help; he could head off by himself and bring the shuttlepod back to pick up Jon; or he could try to get the captain to the shuttlepod. He didn't think much of any of the options.

What if he decided to stay put and _Enterprise_ was delayed? Jon might die before help could arrive. Or worse yet, what would happen to them if _Enterprise _never returned to pick them up? They would be completely helpless. No, Trip decided, he couldn't sit back and do nothing. The first option was definitely out.

He knew he stood a far better chance of reaching the shuttlepod if he went alone. To this point, he really hadn't given any thought to his own injuries, but he finally had to admit to himself that he might have a couple of cracked ribs and his right shoulder was bruised. It would be hard enough for a healthy man to get back to the shuttlepod. What chance did an injured man have, especially if he had to carry someone else? If he didn't strike out on his own, neither of them stood much of a chance for survival.

But what would happen to Jon if he abandoned him? Trip reached over and pressed his fingers to Archer's neck just to reassure himself that the captain was still alive. What if the shuttlepod was damaged in the earthquake? He might not be able to get back in time. Trip couldn't bear the thought of the captain dying all alone on this godforsaken planet. No, Archer was his responsibility. He had to see this through. That left option three. Like it or not, he had to take Jon with him.

Once the decision was made, Trip felt a bit better. He knew it wasn't going to be easy, but it was the right thing to do – the only thing to do. At least he had little control over the situation. That was something.

He looked at Archer's backpack and sighed. He might be able to leave it behind, but he'd have to take most of the contents with him. He unhooked his own backpack and painfully maneuvered his upper body so that it slowly slid down his arms. Reaching back with his left hand, he grabbed a strap and pulled it towards him. He opened it and started to transfer things from Jon's backpack.

When he picked up the water pouch he suddenly realized that his throat was almost painfully dry. He opened the bag and drank. He paused for a breath then took another drink. Feeling better, he capped Archer's water pouch and put it aside next to his own. Just as he was ready to close his backpack, he realized they might need the blanket. Carefully retrieving it, Trip folded the blanket over a couple of times and stuffed it in. Wincing in pain, he managed to get the backpack strapped on again and hung the water pouches around his neck. He was as ready as he would ever be.

Holding his side, Trip slowly got to his feet and took a look around. A crevice had opened up about mile away. It cut across the surface, in zigzag fashion, like a large open wound. Off in the distance, steam rose from the crevice in great yellowish clouds. Trip made a mental note to take a little extra care to watch where he was going.

As he looked back and forth across the terrain, he slowly realized that something wasn't quite right. The landscape looked the same, and yet it was very different. When realization dawned, he could do little more than mutter, "Son of a bitch." The earthquake had done a pretty thorough job of rearranging things.

_Too bad we didn't leave a trail of breadcrumbs_, he thought ruefully. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his scanner. He pressed the power button and was relieved to see the display spring to life. He checked the shuttlepod's location and returned the scanner to his pocket. He could only hope that the readings were accurate. If they weren't, well…he couldn't handle the idea of being lost right now. Not on top of everything else.

Slowly, Trip leaned over and grabbed the front of Jon's shirt and pulled him into a sitting position. Undaunted by the pain from his damaged ribs, Trip took a deep breath, gritted his teeth and pulled Jon up so that he was stretched across Trip's shoulders. Gripping one of the captain's arms and one of his legs, Trip tried to straighten up, but another burst of pain quickly forced him to halt. He thought about lowering Archer down to the ground again, but that wasn't an option. He had to do this. There was no one else. Taking another deep breath, Trip tried again. Screaming as the pain lanced through him, he finally managed to stand erect. Breathing heavily, he shifted Archer's weight to a slightly more comfortable position and they set out.

It was slow going as he stumbled and poked his way among the rocks and troughs. The added gravity pulled at his feet as he shuffled along. He was unable to wipe away the beads of sweat that trailed down his face. He could only blink futilely against the stinging sensation when a few errant drops ran lazily into his eyes. He was so tired and, try as he might, he couldn't seem to pull enough air into his lungs.

In his weakened condition, he couldn't climb up and over the rocky mounds so he had to find a way to go around them. He was forced to look down, constantly searching the ground for loose stones that might cause him to twist an ankle. With each faltering step over the rough and broken ground, he felt Archer's weight pressing down on him. He was responsible for this man's life. If he fell, if he stopped to rest, his friend would die. He had to stay on his feet. He had to keep moving.

Step after step, yard after yard, as the pain and fatigue began to mount, his mind slowly began to focus on the one person who meant the most to him. He took refuge in the memories of their time together: working, arguing, and making love. T'Pol was and always would be everything to him. Just the sight of her stirred him in a way that no other woman ever could. The feel of her skin. Her unique scent. The way her eyes sparked when he challenged her. Her passion when they were alone in the dark.

He'd become so lost in thought that he was only vaguely aware of the broken ground around him. Suddenly, he stumbled, and this time he wasn't able to maintain his balance. Both men went down in a heap. For a moment, Trip lay dazed and disoriented. He had no idea where they were or how far they'd come, but he did know that if he didn't pull himself together they were both going to both die right there. He squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe the captain was already dead. He still hadn't moved. Trip sniffed and opened his eyes. No, he couldn't accept that.

He slowly sat up and pulled his legs out from underneath the captain's body. When he pressed his fingers to Archer's neck, he felt a weak, but steady pulse. His friend was still alive.

Relieved, Trip raised his head and looked around. As far as the eye could see there was nothing but desolation. He uncapped his water pouch and took a long drink. Suddenly, his body tensed and he began to cough. Throwing his arms around his rib cage, he grimaced until he felt the pain begin to ease. He knew he was weakening fast. He had to find out where they were.

Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out his scanner and checked their position. Although he'd gone slightly off course, Trip almost cried for joy when he realized that he'd covered over two-thirds of the distance back to the shuttlepod and safety. Then reality set in. He still had a long way to go.

Once again a series of coughs rumbled up from his chest only this time he coughed up a little bright red blood. The sight of blood on his hand seemed to rob him of his last remaining shred of hope. Why was he fooling himself? He wasn't sure that he could stand, let alone cover the remaining distance. And he was tired – more tired than he'd been at any other single moment in his life. He'd proven, once again, that he wasn't strong enough, or smart enough to make things right. Thanks to him, they'd never really had a chance to make it. Slumping next to Archer, he closed his eyes in defeat and let sleep take him.

"Trip."

Tucker stirred, but his eyes refused to open.

"Trip."

When he heard the voice a second time, he opened his eyes and looked over at Archer, but he was clearly still unconscious. "Now I'm imagining things," Tucker mumbled. "That's just great." He closed his eyes and, once again, started to drift toward oblivion.

"Trip."

His eyes popped open. Slowly, he pushed himself up on one elbow and looked around. Seeing nothing, he was just about to sink back down when he took one last look and saw her walking slowly towards him. She was wearing her blue uniform and, as always, she was incredibly beautiful.

"T'Pol?" he whispered incredulously. When she came to a halt about three feet in front him, he looked around again. "Where are the others? You didn't come alone, did ya?"

She looked down at him, but made no move to come closer.

He decided to try again. "Damn it, T'Pol, say something."

When he again received no response, he rubbed his eyes to be sure he wasn't dreaming. No, she was still there. Now he was starting to get mad. "Why are you just standin' there?" He tried to yell, but his voice came out as little more than a series of hoarse gasps. "Can't you see the captain's hurt? Why'd you come down here if you aren't gonna help us?" He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't support his weight, and he fell back down.

"Trip, you have to get up."

When he looked up again, she was bending over him. He reached for her and she vanished. Sucking in his breath, he stared at the place where she had been in open disbelief. Suddenly, a wave of hopelessness washed over him. He sank back down and, burying his face in his arm, fought to hold back the tears. He was either dreaming or he was going stark, staring mad.

As he lay on the hard unforgiving rock, he thought he felt someone gently stroke his hair, but that was impossible. It had to be his imagination…or maybe a breath of wind.

"Trip, you must get up."

Numbly, he shook his head. She couldn't even let him die in peace.

"Leave me alone, T'Pol," he mumbled. "I know you're not real."

"Only you can save the captain's life. Do this for me."

He raised his head and saw her staring at him, willing him on, but shame finally forced him to look away. He didn't want her to see him like this – a broken, defeated shell of a man – but he just didn't have anything left to give. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I just can't do it anymore."

"If you do not get up, you will both die. You cannot allow that to happen."

"Please, T'Pol…"

"Get up! That's an order."

"Now wait just a minute…" He struggled to sit up.

"Get on your feet and follow me, Commander."

It was pretty obvious that she wasn't going to leave him alone. She was so damn stubborn. Would it kill her to try just once to make his life a little easier?

He pressed his lips together and looked over at Jon. The bandage on the captain's head was still in place, and the bleeding hadn't started up again. He reached over and felt Archer's face; it was cool. No fever. _That's good_, Trip thought then he hesitated. Or was it? Maybe his skin was too cool. Was his friend going into shock? Angry and frustrated, he picked up a handful of grit and threw it away. Why couldn't he think clearly? What good was first aid training if he got everything confused? What good was he to anybody?

It took three tries, but he finally managed to get to his feet. Steadying himself against a large rock, Trip leaned over, grabbed the front of Archer's uniform, and tugged. Straining against his friend's weight, Trip worked until Archer's body was standing upright, leaning against the rock. Biting his lip against the pain, Trip slowly pulled the captain's limp body onto his shoulders again.

"Follow me, Commander," T'Pol said as she started to move away from him. "You've rested long enough." Trip groaned and staggered forward.

Time had no meaning. There was only excruciating pain, unrelenting thirst and the constant struggle to breathe in the stinking air. His mouth and throat were so dry that it hurt to swallow, but he couldn't afford to stop for a drink. Staggering under Archer's weight, he kept his eyes riveted on the ground in front of him. Only when he thought he was going off course or he felt his spirits flag did he look up. She was always there leading the way, exactly ten paces in front of him. She never looked back, but her presence helped to ease his loneliness.

He was sweating profusely now. His body shook from cold, agony and fatigue. Suddenly a large lava mound loomed before him. Bewildered, he stumbled to a halt. The great black rock, thrust upward by nature's fury, stood between him and the shuttlepod. His mind screamed for him to go around it, but his body was finished. This time the obstacle was too great. Slowly, he leaned against the rock and shifted his weight slightly to allow Archer's body to slide to the ground.

"Mr. Tucker, what are you doing?" T'Pol stood close to him, her arms planted firmly behind her back. "You must not stop," she said commandingly. "The shuttlepod is not far away."

"Don't you understand, T'Pol," he said as he gasped for breath, "I can't make it." He dropped his head and let the rock support him. He knew he was dying, but that was okay. It didn't really matter anymore. He'd failed for the last time. This would be better for everyone.

"Is this all the captain means to you?" T'Pol was relentless. "Is this how you repay him for his friendship – for all he has done for you?"

"Leave me alone," Tucker wheezed feebly.

"You are abandoning him."

Trip raised his head. "You should talk." He coughed violently then shakily wiped the blood away with the back of his hand. "You abandoned me, too. Remember?" His voice was hoarse and barely audible.

"I have not abandoned you, Commander. I am here. I will help you do what must be done."

"I can't."

"You must."

She was standing so close to him now that he could reach out and touch her cheek, but if he did he knew she would fade away and that would destroy him.

"You know what is owed, Commander. You must do your duty."

"Please, T'Pol…"

"Only a coward abandons his friends."

"I'm not a coward," Trip said angrily as he tried to straighten up.

"Then prove it."

Trip looked down at Archer, unconscious at his feet. She had no right to ask this of him. He'd proved his loyalty over and over again. "I'm not Vulcan, T'Pol," he mumbled wearily. "I don't have the strength."

"You are the equal of a Vulcan in many ways. You only have to try." Her soft brown eyes never left his. "You must save the captain's life."

"What about my life, T'Pol?" he mumbled dejectedly.

"Commander?" She stared at him uncomprehendingly.

He shook his head weakly then whispered, "Never mind." Trip didn't think a body could be numb and in pain at the same time, but he was discovering that it was indeed possible. His legs felt as responsive as the cold, black rock he leaned against.

He knew he wasn't a coward. He thought she knew it, too, but obviously he was wrong. When it came to her, he was wrong about a lot of things.

Wrapping his arms protectively around his rib cage, he once again looked down at Archer's inert body. He shook his head as he tried to force himself to think. He had to figure out what to do next. As he worked to bring some semblance of order to his muddled thoughts, two things were clear: he couldn't pick Jon up again and he couldn't leave him. If only the captain would wake up everything would be all right.

Trip lowered himself to the ground. Leaning over, he lightly slapped Archer's face. "Come on, Cap'n," he whispered desperately, "ya gotta wake up." The silence pressed in on him. Taking hold of Archer's shoulders he awkwardly shook him. "Please." When there was no response he collapsed on top of Archer and buried his face in the front of the captain's jacket. "Please," he sobbed softly. "Please help me."

"What are you going to do, Commander?"

Tucker sniffed weakly then looked up and met T'Pol's eyes. "I can't carry him anymore," he whispered.

"I am not interested in what you can't do. How do you intend to save the captain's life?" 

"Well," Tucker said shakily as he tried to think, "I guess I could drag him."

"Then do it."

In the face of T'Pol's determination, Trip couldn't help but be a little miffed. What about a little compassion? What about a little understanding? Where was the concern for his welfare? As he pulled and shoved Jon's body to get it into position, he mumbled weakly, "You've got a real attitude problem, T'Pol. Ya know that?"

His comments merited only one delicately raised Vulcan eyebrow.

He struggled and worked until he was on his feet, clutching Archer's hands behind his back. Straining and groaning, he slowly began to move forward, dragging the captain's body behind him. He moved laboriously around the great black rock and followed in T'Pol's footsteps.

Coughing again, he felt dampness on his chin and knew that it was probably blood. Slogging along, he kept his head down, focusing solely on putting one foot unsteadily in front of the other. His mind couldn't deal with the damage he might be doing to his friend's body.

Just when it seemed as though his journey would never end he heard T'Pol say, "Trip, look up."

He barely had the strength to keep his eyes open, but there was something in her voice that made him fight against the fatigue and raise his head. There five yards in front of him was the shuttlepod. Once he became fully aware of what he was seeing, a mammoth wave of relief washed over him, threatening to bring him to his knees. Half crying, half laughing, he looked jubilantly for T'Pol. It only took a moment for his joy to turn to anguish when he realized that his Vulcan pathfinder was no longer with him.

"T'Pol," he shouted feebly, "please don't leave me! I need you!" There was no answer, not even the whistle of the wind. His eyes desperately searched the landscape, but she was gone without a trace.

Once again she had abandoned him when he needed her most. When would he learn? Even though she had pushed him away time and time again, he always believed, deep down in his heart, that she would come back to him. This time, though, the message was clear. She had come to save the captain. She hadn't come to save him. He was only a means to an end. And with that single thought, the tiny flame of hope he'd been nursing for so long sputtered and died. He was finally forced to accept that it was over between them. Shuddering, he didn't think it was possible for anyone to feel so alone.

Distraught and pushed beyond what man was meant to endure, he slowly moved forward again. When he reached the shuttlepod he stood still for a moment, weaving slightly. Finally, he forced himself to release his grip, allowing Jon's arms to fall to the ground. Knowing that his ordeal was nearing an end, Trip collapsed beside the captain. With trembling fingers he reached for Archer's neck. There was a pulse; he was still alive. That, at least, was something. Shivering in a uniform damp with sweat, Trip opened his water pouch and drank until the water ran freely from the corners of his mouth. Before he capped the pouch, he ran his jacket sleeve back and forth over his mouth and chin.

He had to move. Using the side of the shuttlepod to pull himself up, he managed to struggle back onto his feet and open the hatch. Then he dropped back down to his knees, grabbed the front of Archer's jacket and pulled his friend towards him. Maneuvering laboriously, he pushed Jon's body up and over the threshold and into the shuttlepod. Trip felt sharp stabbing pains in his shoulder and mid section as he crawled in behind the captain. He couldn't avoid landing on Archer's legs when he entered, but he was too tired to care. Besides, he rationalized, the captain couldn't feel it anyway.

As Trip struggled to close the hatch, he realized that he didn't have the strength to move his friend onto one of the benches. He was sorry, but Jon would just have to stay on the floor. Maybe later…

Trip pulled himself up into the pilot's seat and said a silent prayer of thanks when the engine immediately powered up. As the shuttlepod rose, he knew he just had to hang on for a little longer. His job wasn't finished until he'd returned the captain safely to _Enterprise_.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

I would also like to thank everyone who has read the chapters I've posted. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review them.

CHAPTER 14: PHLOX

Doctor Phlox moved quickly down the corridor and into the turbolift. It was a rare occurrence for him to be called to the bridge. He hoped that there was nothing seriously wrong. The Tellarite delegation had disembarked several days ago without incident. Perhaps it had something to do with the captain and Commander Tucker. Oh well, he'd find out soon enough.

As the turbolift doors opened and he stepped out onto the bridge, all eyes turned in his direction. There was an air of tension, but nothing else seemed to indicate that _Enterprise_ was in the midst of a crisis.

"Over here, Doctor," Lieutenant Reed called softly from the situation room. "Ensign Sato. Ensign Mayweather."

The two ensigns rose from their stations and followed the doctor over to the table in the middle of the situation room. They were barely out of their seats before other crewmen stepped in to take their places.

Commander T'Pol stood with her head bowed as she made adjustments to the data displayed on the monitor at the center of the table. Dr. Phlox was concerned. The commander appeared to be almost…well…fidgeting. That was unlike the usually self-possessed Vulcan. As though she had read his mind, T'Pol's head came up and her eyes locked on his. Pressing her lips together, she pulled her shoulders back and straightened her posture. Outwardly she appeared to be in complete control of the situation, but beneath the stoical façade it was apparent that she was deeply distressed.

"Have you been able to raise the shuttlepod again?" T'Pol asked as she turned her attention to Ensign Sato.

"I'm sorry, Commander," Hoshi responded, "I was only able to get through one time. We're still trying to raise them, but their comm system may be down."

T'Pol took a deep breath and turned to the Denobulan. "Doctor, Captain Archer did not check in today at the prearranged time. Ensign Sato has been trying to contact the shuttlepod, but, with the exception of that single transmission, she has not been successful." T'Pol gripped the edge of the table a little tighter. "Commander Tucker indicated that the captain had been injured and would require medical attention." She dropped her head slightly and averted her eyes. "I believe the commander may be injured as well."

Phlox looked carefully at T'Pol for a moment before turning his attention to Hoshi. "Did Mr. Tucker indicate what type of injuries the captain had sustained?"

"He only said that the captain was hurt and needed help." Hoshi's eyes drifted nervously to T'Pol. "He said he was fine, but his voice sounded kind of weak. I suppose that could have been caused by a poor transmission. Our connection wasn't very good."

Malcolm pressed a button and the viewscreen at the center of the table changed. The area of space around Tellar was now visible. "We have a fix on Shuttlepod Two's position. Here," he pointed to a small dot pulsating amongst the stars. "As far as we can tell, the shuttlepod is on course and proceeding at maximum impulse power."

Reed looked over toward Mayweather. The young ensign nodded once in recognition and continued on with the briefing. "Fortunately, it took us less time than anticipated to reach the Tellarite home world, so we're ahead of schedule. If we can maintain warp five, I estimate that we'll rendezvous with the shuttlepod in about twenty minutes."

"Ensign Sato, let me know as soon as you make contact with the shuttlepod." Hoshi nodded once in acknowledgement. "Are there any questions?" T'Pol asked tightly as she looked at the officers around the table. "If there is nothing else, you are dismissed."

When the officers began to move back to their stations on the bridge, Phlox held his ground. His eyes remained locked on the Vulcan first officer.

T'Pol shifted nervously under his gaze. "Is there something I can do for you, Doctor?"

Phlox slowly closed the distance between them and said in a low voice, "Could I speak with you…in private?"

"This is not a good time, Doctor. After we have recovered the captain..."

Phlox did not intend to be denied. "Now, if you please, Commander."

T'Pol nodded stiffly. "We can use the captain's ready room. Follow me, Doctor."

As the two officers approached the ready room, T'Pol caught Lieutenant Reed's eye. "Please inform me if there is any change."

"Understood, Commander," Reed responded.

Once the door had closed behind them, T'Pol turned to face the doctor. "What is so urgent that it could not wait until this situation has been resolved?"

Phlox stood silently observing her. Her emotions seemed closer to the surface than at any time since the death of her child. Something was seriously wrong.

"Doctor, you are trying my patience."

"I apologize, Commander," he said quietly. "If there is something wrong I would like to help you if I can."

Obviously distressed T'Pol walked over to the viewport. Keeping her back to Phlox, she said, "I am understandably concerned for the welfare of the captain."

"And Commander Tucker?" the doctor asked quietly.

Phlox didn't think it was possible but her posture became even more rigid. "And Commander Tucker," she said tightly. "Both men are vital members of this crew. We need to retrieve them as soon as possible."

The doctor moved deeper into the room so that he could see her face, but once again she turned away from him.

"Why do you believe that Commander Tucker is injured?" he asked.

"Ensign Sato said that his voice sounded weak."

"That's not the same thing, T'Pol. You are obviously distressed far beyond what this situation would seem to warrant. You can talk to me. I assure you that I will be discreet."

She turned and looked at him frostily. "There is nothing to discuss."

Phlox clasped his hands in front of him and sighed. This was not going to be as easy as he'd hoped. "I'm not a fool, T'Pol. I've treated many Vulcans over the years. I even lived on Vulcan for a brief time."

"Doctor, please…"

"I've seen the way you interact with Commander Tucker. It is apparent to anyone who wants to take the time to study the two of you that your relationship has gone beyond that of two colleagues or even two lovers. Am I correct?"

She shook her head.

"So I ask you again, why do you believe that Commander Tucker is injured?"

T'Pol pressed her lips together and remained silent.

Phlox threw up his hands in exasperation. "T'Pol, I am not asking this because I'm nosy. I know you value your privacy as much as I value my own, but I am the chief medical officer on this ship. If you have information that can help me do my job, then you must be honest with me."

When she remained unresponsive, Phlox realized that he no longer had time for subtlety. "Were you able to bond with Mr. Tucker?"

T'Pol spun around and stared at the doctor. For a few tense moments, he was afraid that she would ignore his pleas, but suddenly her resolve crumbled. In the blink of an eye, all of the emotions that she had worked so hard to control played across her face, giving him a peek at her inner turmoil.

"He is in a great deal of pain," she whispered.

"Have you been able to communicate with him in any way?" Phlox asked solicitously.

"No," she said softly. She raised one trembling hand to her lips then, apparently realizing it was a show of weakness, clasped both hands firmly behind her back. "At first I didn't want to believe it, but I can't deny it any longer. The pain is too real."

"Does the captain know about the bond?"

"No one knows. It is something very personal and private that Mr. Tucker and I share." As she looked at the doctor her eyes held a look of great sadness. "As we grew apart, our bond became less of a factor in our lives. In the last few months I have not even been aware of it." T'Pol spoke as though this admission was very difficult for her to make. "Commander Tucker must be in a great deal of distress if he is no longer able to shield me from his feelings. He has become quite adept at shutting me out."

Phlox didn't know what to say. He was aware that the Vulcan's relationship with the chief engineer was complicated, but it was evidently far more difficult than even he imagined.

"Can I give you something for the discomfort, T'Pol?"

"No," she said adamantly. "As long as I can feel his pain, I know he still is with me."

"I don't know the extent of your bond, but if you learn anything more from the commander, please let me know. I will do everything I can for him, T'Pol…and for the captain. You must have faith that everything will be all right."

Squaring her shoulders and raising her chin, T'Pol was once again the efficient, emotionless first officer. "We will rendezvous with the shuttlepod in eight minutes. I will meet you in the launch bay."

"I'll make sure that sickbay is prepared." He started toward the door then stopped. "Of course everything we've said here was said in confidence, Commander."

"Thank you, Doctor."

As Phlox left the ready room he looked over toward the communication station. He caught Hoshi's eye, but she only shook her head. Hurrying back to sickbay, he began to make mental preparations for the coming emergency. Thanks to T'Pol, he now had a better idea of what to expect. He probably had two patients, both with serious injuries. He only regretted that it had been necessary to invade T'Pol's privacy.

- - - - - - - - - -

All eyes watched the red light over the door as they waited for the air pressure to be restored to the launch bay. When the light turned green, Malcolm opened the door and stood back as T'Pol and the doctor hurried to the shuttlepod. Phlox allowed T'Pol to open the hatch then gently moved her aside.

The doctor started to enter the shuttlepod, but stopped when he saw the captain's body lying sprawled on the deck just inside the hatch. Quickly, he reached in and ran his medical scanner over Archer. "We need to get the captain to sickbay immediately," he called over his shoulder to the members of his medical team. "T'Pol could you…" He stopped in mid sentence when he looked up and saw that the Vulcan's attention was locked not on the captain, but on the other occupant of the shuttlepod.

Commander Tucker stood like a sentinel over Archer's body. His right hand gripped the back of the pilot's seat while his left arm wrapped protectively around his mid section. His eyes never left the captain.

Phlox reached in, pushed one of Archer's legs aside, and carefully climbed into the shuttlepod. Kneeling beside the body of his patient, he gently rolled Archer onto his back. He quickly checked his patient's pupils and scanned the injured area near his temple. "Give me a hand here," he said to two of the corpsmen waiting at the open hatch. As the three men carefully lifted Archer out of the shuttlepod, Phlox admonished the corpsmen, "Be careful with his head. That's right. Good. Now get him to sickbay. I'll be right along." While the two corpsmen moved off with the captain, Phlox glanced quickly at the remaining members of his medical team. "Stand by," he cautioned them. "We have another patient."

Out of the corner of his eye, Phlox noticed T'Pol take a step toward the hatch. He immediately thrust his hand forward, stopping her. "Please stay here, Commander."

"I must see him," she said huskily.

"No." Phlox knew he had to be firm. "You must let me do my job. I'll see to Mr. Tucker."

Grudgingly, T'Pol nodded her head. Her rigid posture and compressed lips gave only a hint of her struggle to remain in control.

Phlox heard a cough behind him. When he turned around, he saw Tucker grimace and clutch his upper body. Before the doctor could respond, the engineer's body was racked by another coughing spasm, only this time blood bubbled from the commander's lips and slowly trickled down his chin.

Phlox quickly stood and moved toward his stricken friend. He'd been prepared to find a man in pain, not a man who appeared to be literally dying on his feet. "Come with me, Commander," he said in a calm though authoritative voice. "We need to get you to sickbay."

"Is the Cap'n okay?" Trip asked breathlessly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Concerned, the doctor reached out instinctively to steady the young man. "Commander…"

"No," Tucker shouted feebly and pulled back from Phlox's outstretched hand. "Is he okay?"

Realizing that his patient would not go willingly, Phlox decided to try the next best thing. "Please sit down, Commander, and let me take a look at you," he coaxed. Slowly, the doctor tried to grasp Tucker's arm. This time Trip didn't fight it. As soon as Phlox wrapped his hand around the sleeve of Tucker's filthy field jacket, he could feel the engineer's body shaking uncontrollably.

"Commander T'Pol," Phlox shouted over his shoulder, "we need to transport Mr. Tucker to sickbay immediately."

"You do not need to shout, Doctor," T'Pol said softly as she squeezed in beside him. "We are ready."

"This is my fault," Trip gasped. His face was a sickly grey and heavily beaded with sweat. "The Cap'n's dead, isn't he?"

Keeping one hand firmly on the commander, Phlox raised his medical scanner and ran it quickly up and down Trip's body. The results were deeply disturbing. It was amazing that he was still on his feet.

"Tell me!" Trip's eyes were glazed with pain as he looked slowly back and forth from the doctor to T'Pol.

"Trip," T'Pol said gently as she laid her hand against his cheek, "Captain Archer is alive. If you come with us to sickbay you can see for yourself."

"He's okay?" Trip slurred. When he looked to Phlox for confirmation, it was obvious that he was having difficulty focusing his eyes.

"Yes," Phlox confirmed. "He has sustained a rather severe head injury, but he should recover completely."

"Sure?"

"Yes, Commander. Now if you'll…" Before Phlox could continue Trip's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed. The doctor still had a hold on his arm, but it was T'Pol who took his weight and lowered him to the deck. She immediately pulled his upper body into her lap and wrapped her arms around him.

"He is not breathing," she said as she looked frantically at Phlox.

Once again the doctor quickly ran his medical scanner over the commander's body and checked the pulse point in his neck. "He's still breathing, but his respiration is so shallow that it's barely perceptible." Phlox pressed a hypospray to Tucker's neck. "A little cordrazine should help stabilize his vital signs. The doctor rose and motioned to the corpsmen waiting outside the hatch. "T'Pol, you must let us take him now."

She looked up at Phlox and, in her eyes, he saw a depth of anguish that tore at his heart. "Let me help him, T'Pol," he said gently. "There is so little time."

Reluctantly, T'Pol nodded and slowly loosened her grip on the commander. Phlox immediately motioned the corpsmen forward. As they reached down to lift Tucker's body he cautioned, "Gently now. We don't want to make a bad situation worse." Under the doctor's supervision, the two corpsmen carefully and efficiently removed the commander from the shuttlepod, leaving T'Pol still seated on the deck, her head bowed.

As Phlox exited behind the corpsmen, he almost ran into Lieutenant Reed who was waiting anxiously outside the hatch. "Take care of her," he said quietly to Malcolm, "and try to keep her away from sickbay for as long as you can. I'm going to have my hands full with the captain and Commander Tucker." Reed nodded as Phlox hurried out of the launch bay. He hadn't given Malcolm an easy task, but with two men in critical condition, he didn't have the time or the energy to worry about T'Pol, too.

- - - - - - - - - -

"Doctor?" Hoshi called softly as she came to a halt inside the sickbay doors. She removed a carrot stick from the dinner tray she had balanced on her left palm, took a bite and started to chew. "Doctor Phlox?"

"I'll be with you in a moment, Ensign," Phlox called through his laboratory screen.

The doctor finished filling a hypospray with sonambutril and placed it in his pocket. It had been a long 40 hours since the shuttlepod had been retrieved. At first, he'd been concerned that he might lose both men, but slowly their conditions had stabilized. The captain was doing well. The commander, however, was still critical. Only time would tell.

After making a few final notations on his patients' medical records, Phlox walked over to the young ensign. "How did you know that I didn't have time for lunch?"

Smiling, Hoshi replied, "You know that Chef keeps close tabs on who eats and who skips meals. Your absence was noted."

Phlox gratefully took the tray from her. "A salad, rolls, peach cobbler – a veritable feast." He walked across the room and set the tray down on a counter. "I've been so busy lately that I haven't been paying proper attention to my nutritional needs. Please thank Chef for me."

"How is Captain Archer?"

Turning around, the doctor saw Hoshi standing beside the biobed, looking down at the captain. "He's responding well," Phlox answered. He made an effort to keep his voice upbeat and positive. "I believe that he will be regaining consciousness soon."

Hoshi took a few moments to study the monitor over the biobed then looked back down at the captain. "What could have happened to him? One day everything is fine and then…this."

Phlox crossed the room and took up a position beside her. "Only two men know what happened on that planet," he replied soberly, "and neither one of them is in a position to enlighten us. The only thing I can say with any certainty is that whatever caused these injuries was catastrophic."

Seemingly against her will, Hoshi slowly raised her eyes and glanced over at the white curtain surrounding the other occupied biobed. "How is Commander Tucker?" she asked quietly. "Lieutenant Reed told me that he was also badly injured."

"The commander is stable…for now," Phlox said. "If we hadn't retrieved the shuttlepod when we did," the Doctor hesitated, "well…let's just say that he's lucky to be alive. They both are."

Hoshi pressed her lips together and glanced up again at the monitor displaying the captain's vital signs. "I need to get back to the bridge." She turned to face Phlox and smiled weakly. "Take good care of them."

"I will, Ensign," Phlox said with a reassuring smile. "And thank you again for delivering my lunch." He watched as Hoshi left sickbay. As soon as the door closed behind her, he checked Archer's vital signs more carefully. Yes, it appeared as though the doctor would not have long to wait for the captain to awaken. The commander, on the other hand, was a different story.

Phlox walked over to the other biobed and peeked around the edge of the curtain. Tucker lay motionless on the bed, but he was not alone. T'Pol sat on a chair beside him. Exhausted, she had fallen asleep with her head resting on Trip's left shoulder and one arm draped protectively across his body. Frowning, Phlox pushed the curtain back slightly and took a step forward. This was unwise. The pressure of her arm might aggravate the commander's injuries or, with a move of her hand, she could dislodge his IV. "T'Pol," he murmured softly. When she didn't respond, he reached over to wake her. Before he made contact with her, however, he took a good look at their faces and drew his hand back. For the first time in a long time, they both seemed to be at peace.

The doctor couldn't help but smile ruefully. For the past four years, he'd watched as an incredibly complex relationship had slowly developed between the human and the Vulcan. He'd seen their attraction to each other in the early days after _Enterprise_'s launch, even when they'd stood antagonistically toe to toe. In his own way, he had unintentionally furthered their connection by asking T'Pol to use neuropressure to help the commander deal with his insomnia. At the time, it had seemed necessary for the smooth running of the ship, but he should have realized that he was throwing fuel on a smoldering fire.

He had hoped that two brilliant, determined people could make a relationship work, but he now realized that fear, grief and insecurity were working against them. Phlox sighed and shook his head. He had never seen two people who were obviously devoted to each other struggle so hard to stay apart. As T'Pol herself would admit, it was not logical.

"Phlox."

That single word, weakly spoken, ended the doctor's ruminations. He headed quickly for Archer's biobed, but not before closing the curtain, once again ensuring the commanders' privacy.

"Ah, Captain," he said brightly, "I see you finally decided to rejoin us. How do you feel?" Archer groggily struggled to sit up, but Phlox put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Please don't try to rise, Captain." He snuck a peek at the vital signs displayed on the monitor above the bed then looked back down at his patient. "Your injuries are not yet fully healed."

"Injuries? What happened?" Archer said as he lay back down and looked around blearily.

"You were injured on an away mission. You suffered a hairline skull fracture."

Archer raised one hand shakily to his head as he looked bewilderedly at the doctor. "Shouldn't I remember getting hit in the head?"

"Not necessarily. Head wounds often bring about memory lapses. What is the last thing you remember?" Phlox asked cheerfully.

"Um…well," Archer mumbled as he tried to focus on the recent past, "we were…transporting the Tellarites." Suddenly aware of what he'd said, the captain looked around nervously. "Are they still on board?"

Phlox beamed at him like a teacher acknowledging a particularly bright pupil. "No, they disembarked almost a week ago, but you wouldn't remember that because you were not on board."

"Not on board? Why not?" It was becoming obvious that the captain was growing restless with this game of twenty questions. "Where was I?"

"You visited an uninhabited planet," Phlox coaxed. "A little rest and relaxation under the guise of a survey…just you and …"

"Trip," Archer blurted out anxiously as a few sketchy memories began to surface. "Where is he? Is he all right?" His eyes darted around the room, searching for his friend. When they landed on the curtained area of sickbay, he tried to sit up, but the doctor's firm hand held him down. "How bad is it?" Archer asked tremulously.

"His internal injuries were life threatening," Phlox said, "but he is holding his own. I am confident that, in time, he will recover completely."

"How are you feeling, Captain?" T'Pol asked as she pulled the curtain aside and walked over to Archer's bed. "We have all been quite concerned."

"Thank you, T'Pol," Archer said, "but I'll be better when I know what happened to Trip."

"Only you and Commander Tucker can answer that," Phlox said as he noticed Archer's struggle to remain conscious, "but perhaps it would be best to explore that at a future time."

"No," Archer said fretfully, "I need to remember."

"And you will," Phlox answered reassuringly, "but now you need to rest and regain your strength." He produced the hypospray he'd just filled and applied it to the captain's neck. "When you wake up again, things will become clearer." Archer looked beseechingly at T'Pol, but there was nothing she could do to help him, and slowly his eyes slid shut.

The doctor looked over at T'Pol. She looked weary to the bone. "You could do with some sleep yourself, Commander."

"I have only just awakened."

"I was referring to a good night's sleep in a real bed."

"I am quite comfortable," T'Pol said as she walked over to her chair beside Tucker's bed. Before she drew the curtain shut she said, "I believe that Lieutenant Reed would also be interested in what the captain has to say."

Phlox nodded. "I'll make sure he's here. The sedative I gave the captain should allow him to sleep for about six to eight hours. Grab whatever rest you can."

One definitely on the road to recovery and one still with a ways to go – things were definitely looking up. The doctor rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Now it was time for lunch.

- - - - - - - - - -

Phlox's estimate was overly optimistic. It was, in fact, almost ten hours before Lieutenant Reed was called to sickbay.

"How are they?" Malcolm queried as he strode purposefully through the door.

"The captain is just waking," Phlox said then frowned. "I'm afraid there is no change in Commander Tucker's condition."

"The commander is strong," T'Pol said quietly as she walked over to stand next to Archer's bed. "He will survive."

Phlox marveled at T'Pol's inner strength. She had made up her mind that Mr. Tucker would live and that was that. She would not contemplate anything less.

Malcolm cast a worried look at the doctor, but just then the captain began to stir.

"Welcome back, sir," Reed said sincerely as Archer opened his eyes. "You gave us quite a fright."

The captain's eyes went immediately to Phlox. "How's Trip?"

"His condition is unchanged," the doctor answered softly as he raised the head of Archer's bed. "The blow to your head was quite severe, Captain. Are you in any pain?"

"A bit," Archer said as he scrubbed a hand across his eyes.

"Quite a bit, I would say." Phlox studied the monitor over Archer's bed before administering an analgesic.

Malcolm shifted his weight nervously. "I know you are still unwell, sir, but I have to know what happened on that planet."

When Archer didn't answer immediately, T'Pol decided to try and stimulate the captain's memory. "We recovered an extensive amount of data from the shuttlepod. You surveyed the planet for four days, is that correct?"

Archer seemed to relax as the pain reliever took hold. "That sounds about right. Trip's assessment of that place was right on the mark. It was a worthless, waterlogged hunk of rock…certainly nothing worth dying for." Archer squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips together in a thin line.

"Captain, if this is too difficult…," Phlox began.

"No, I'm all right." Archer opened his eyes and looked at his friends. "It's the least I can do for Trip. Without him, I doubt that I would be here now."

"We know that Trip flew the shuttlepod back to Enterprise," Malcolm said, "but how were you injured? Do you remember what happened?"

Archer took a deep breath. "Things are still kind of hazy, but I remember heading for a range of mountains up north. We'd spotted a hot springs on an earlier pass over the area. Since we had plenty of time, we thought we'd check it out. The ground was too rough to land the shuttlepod close to the springs, so we decided to hike in. I think we reached the foot of the mountains. After that, things get a little fuzzy." Archer shifted restlessly and coughed.

Phlox held a cup of water to Archer's lips. "Drink this, Captain. It will help."

Jon drank slowly. When he'd had enough, he raised his head slightly, signaling Phlox to remove the glass. "I remember the ground shaking," he continued. He knitted his brow in an effort to remember. "I guess it must have been an earthquake. I think Trip shoved me." He shrugged his shoulders slightly. "Then everything went dark."

"So when the ground stopped shaking, the two of you made your way back to the shuttlepod," Malcolm reasoned.

Archer shook his head then winced. Obviously, the added motion was a bad idea. "I don't think I ever came to. Trip must have carried me out."

"I'm sorry, Captain," Phlox said soberly, "but I believe your memory is still playing tricks on you. With a mild concussion, four broken ribs, a hairline fracture of the right scapula and internal injuries, Commander Tucker would have had difficulty walking that distance on his own, let alone attempting to carry another man. You must have regained consciousness."

"I don't know." Archer fixed his gaze on Trip. "I remember the ground shaking, and then nothing until I woke up here in sickbay. Unless I've taken up sleep walking, Trip had to have been my ticket out."

Phlox could tell that the captain was tiring rapidly. His color still wasn't good, and the anxiety his memories engendered was sapping what little strength he had left.

"The entire crew is grateful that you survived your ordeal," T'Pol said quietly. Straightening her shoulders, the solicitous friend was instantly transformed into a Starfleet officer. "We are headed back to Earth, Captain. Do you have any orders?"

"No," Archer said weakly. "Just get us home." He turned toward Phlox. "Do what you can for Trip. I owe him."

"Of course, Captain," the doctor replied, smiling confidently. "He's getting the best of care. When he regains consciousness, you'll be the first to know. In the mean time, you need to rest."

"Fine." Archer closed his eyes as Phlox lowered the bed back to a prone position. "I guess I am kind of tired."

"Sleep well, Captain," Malcolm said softly then, after nodding to T'Pol and Phlox, he headed back to the bridge.

T'Pol stood looking at Archer for a moment longer before returning to Trip's bedside. When Phlox had assured himself that the captain was indeed asleep, he followed her. He checked the commander's vital signs again and nodded in satisfaction when he noted a slight improvement.

T'Pol gently stroked Trip's arm as she stared intently at his face. "Do you think it's possible that he saved the captain's life?"

Phlox considered her question then shrugged. "Anything is possible. Is it probable? No. His injuries are too severe. But we both know how stubborn he can be." Phlox smiled when T'Pol looked his way. "Mr. Tucker can work miracles in engineering. Maybe he can work miracles on alien planets as well."

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

I would also like to thank everyone who has read the chapters I've posted. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review them.

This chapter is very short, so I thought I'd just go ahead and post it.

CHAPTER 15: TRIP

Consciousness returned like a thick velvet curtain rising. Slowly, Trip rocked his head from side to side and flexed the fingers of his right hand. He began to drift back to sleep when a noise disturbed him. Prying his eyes open, he was forced to squint against the brightness of the lights. As he raised his left arm to shade his eyes, he felt a tug. His befogged mind tried to make sense of things as he stared uncomprehendingly at the offending tubing which protruded from his left arm. He heard the scratching sound again. Turning his head, he saw one of Phlox's creatures digging furiously at the floor of its cage. Only then did he realize that he was in sickbay.

"Doc," he called hoarsely. Running his tongue over dry lips, he desperately wanted a drink of water. He squeezed his eyes shut, wrinkling his brow, as he tried to force himself to think. Something wasn't right. He shouldn't be alone. He moved again, and his ribs protested. Suddenly, an image flashed in his mind of a barren patch of ground and the body of a man lying motionless. There was blood and hopelessness and fear.

His eyes flew open. "Cap'n!" he called frantically as he looked in vain for any sign of his friend. Struggling to rise, he felt the pull of the IV again and, in desperation, he tore it from his arm. His body wouldn't allow him to sit up, so he rolled awkwardly to the right.

"Cap'n!" His mind fought to deny the unthinkable. His friend, the man who'd called him brother, wasn't here because he was dead. Jon had died because he was too weak to save him. "Please, no," he whispered.

Irrationally, he decided that he couldn't just lie there and do nothing. He had to find the captain and prove to himself that he didn't have his friend's blood on his hands. Groaning, he slowly moved his legs over the side of the bed and pushed his upper body forward until he over balanced and fell gracelessly to the deck. Every nerve in his body screamed in agony as he lay curled on his side, willing himself to keep breathing. A red haze clouded his vision and threatened to drag him under, but he fought against it. Moments later, when the pain became a little more manageable, he moved an arm forward, intent on pulling his battered body across sickbay to the door.

"Commander!"

While his brain processed the fact that he'd heard another person's voice, two hands gently rolled him onto his back. He tried to focus on the face staring down at him, but his eyes refused to cooperate. Then he felt a warm hand on his forehead, and he knew it was T'Pol. Suddenly he felt something press against his neck, and he knew she wasn't alone. Phlox was with her. He had a feeling that they weren't going to be happy with him.

Four hands grabbed him, and he felt himself being lifted up. He cried out in pain as his body protested against the continuing abuse, and for a few precious moments he blacked out. When he came to again, he opened his eyes and saw a shape that didn't look Vulcan bending over him.

"Doc?" he whispered. He wanted to say more, but he didn't seem to be able to force the words past his lips. Gradually, with the firm feel of the biobed beneath his back, the world began to slowly drift back into focus. He drew in a sharp breath as the doctor felt along his ribs and up along his right shoulder. Phlox wasn't smiling.

When he noticed Trip looking at him the Denobulan said incredulously, "What in the world were you thinking, Commander? Even the simplest creature in my menagerie knows to stay put when it's hurt. Have you even one ounce of common sense?"

Trip opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. What could he say? Turning his head slowly, he saw T'Pol dabbing at a trail of blood on his left arm.

"The catheter tip is intact, Doctor," she said tightly. "It didn't break off in his arm."

Phlox huffed. "At least that's one thing we can be thankful for."

Trip knew they were right to be mad at him, but if he could only explain, maybe they could understand why he did what he did. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was so dry that it did little good. Phlox leaned over and shone a light first in one eye and then the other.

"Sorry…so sorry…," Trip muttered incoherently, "Tried…couldn't…"

"Be quiet, Mr. Tucker," T'Pol said. "You must conserve your strength."

She was never going to forgive him for letting the captain die. He only wanted her to love him, and now that could never be. A ghost would always stand between them. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away from her. How could he make her understand?

"Commander, you have reinjured your shoulder," Phlox said firmly. "Repairing the damage will be painful, so I am going to sedate you."

"No, please," Trip mumbled. He pulled his arm from T'Pol's grasp and tried feebly to push the doctor away. "Have to…explain…sorry…don't..."

He felt the pressure on his neck and heard the hiss. Before he could say anything more, his world faded into nothingness.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

I would also like to thank everyone who has read the chapters I've posted. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review them.

CHAPTER 16: PHLOX

From his work station in the medical lab, Phlox heard the sickbay doors swish open. Looking up, he saw Captain Archer and his first officer enter and cross the room toward Tucker's bed. Archer only paused for a moment to check on his friend before heading over for a chat with the doctor. T'Pol lingered a little longer, brushing one hand lightly over Trip's brow and down the side of his face. When she had reassured herself that the commander was recuperating, she joined the two men on the far side of the room.

Phlox had been expecting this visit ever since he'd released Archer from sickbay. He knew that the captain was eager to talk to his chief engineer.

"T'Pol told me what happened earlier," Archer said as he came to a halt in front of the doctor. "Is Trip all right?" His eyes once again sought out his friend.

"Mr. Tucker is healing nicely," Phlox replied reassuringly. "I expect him to regain consciousness very soon."

"Whatever possessed him to try to get out of bed?" Archer asked bewilderedly. "I gave him credit for more sense than that."

Phlox studied the commander for a moment before turning back to the captain. "Of course I can only guess, but I would say that he was trying to find you."

"Me?"

"Yes. He was very concerned about you. As a matter of fact," Phlox continued, "he refused to leave the shuttlepod until Commander T'Pol and I assured him that you would be all right."

Archer raised a trembling hand and began to rub his head. "Hadn't he already done enough?" he said softly. "I wouldn't ask anyone to do what he did for me. I don't deserve that kind of loyalty. I…" Before he could continue the captain wavered, pressing his hand firmly to the side of his head. Instinctively, he reached over and grasped T'Pol's shoulder to steady himself. She, in turn, wrapped her arm around his waist.

"Captain," Phlox said solicitously, "you should lie down."

"No, I'll be fine. Just give me a minute."

The doctor reached into his pocket and produced a hypospray. After adjusting the setting, he pressed it to Archer's neck. "This should help with the pain. Is that better?"

"Yeah," Archer said grimacing.

"Captain, perhaps the doctor is correct," T'Pol said softly. "You should lie down. Let me help…" Suddenly T'Pol's head spun around, and she stared in disbelief at Tucker. Now undeniably conscious, Trip stared back at her. T'Pol blinked twice then jerked her arm from around Archer's waist.

"Ah, Commander," Phlox said hesitantly as he looked from Trip to T'Pol and back again, "it's good of you to join us."

Tucker didn't respond. His eyes remained locked on Archer and T'Pol. T'Pol took one tentative step in his direction then, shaking her head almost imperceptibly, she turned and bolted from the room.

Obviously confused, the captain watched as T'Pol beat a hasty retreat. "What…" Archer began, but Phlox cut him off.

"You gave us quite a scare earlier," Phlox said soothingly as he headed over to the commander's bed. "I trust you intend to stay put this time. Your body is far from healed."

Trip seemed to be oblivious to the doctor's words. His gaze was now firmly locked on Archer.

Phlox checked the commander's vital signs and then motioned the captain over to the bed.

"It's about time you woke up," Archer said softly as he moved forward to stand beside Phlox. "It's good to see you, Trip."

"Are you real?" Trip whispered. His eyes, still glazed with pain, looked pleadingly at the captain.

"I am. Thanks to you," Archer said quietly. He reached down and clasped Tucker's hand in his. "I don't know what to say, Trip. I always knew you were tough, but for you to ignore your own injuries so that you could get me back to _Enterprise_…well…that gives 'tough' a whole new meaning. I owe you my life."

"Just returnin' the favor," Tucker said, but instead of smiling he turned his face away.

Dismayed, Archer squeezed the commander's hand. "Trip, what's the matter? Please talk to me."

After a few moments Tucker whispered, "I thought you were dead. I thought I killed you."

"Killed me," Archer blurted incredulously.

"I pushed you. You fell and hit your head."

"You pushed me out of the way," Archer said, his voice raised in frustration.

"Captain," Phlox said softly, "please try to remain calm. He's bound to be confused."

Nodding, Archer tilted his head back and took a deep breath. When he looked back down he said, "Trip, look at me."

Tucker squeezed his eyes shut and weakly shook his head. "I thought..."

"Look at me, Commander," Archer said firmly. "That's an order."

Slowly, Trip opened his eyes and turned his head toward the captain.

"None of this was your fault," Archer said sincerely. "You tried to warn me that something was wrong. I should have listened to you. As for the dent in my skull, that was my fault, too. I've been doing a lot of thinking…trying to piece together what happened. I remember you pushing me out of the way. There were rocks falling. I don't remember much else. A rock must have clipped me on the side of the head. You saved my life, Trip. I'll never forget that."

"I'm glad you're okay," Trip mumbled as he pulled his hand out of Archer's grasp. "I'm kinda tired, Captain. Thanks for stoppin' by." He raised his left arm and covered his eyes, effectively bringing the conversation to an end.

Stunned, Archer continued to stare at his friend. Finally taking pity on him, Phlox took the captain's arm and lead him across the room.

"Are you sure he's going to be all right?" Archer asked tightly.

Phlox sighed. Why was the truth so hard to accept? "Physically, Commander Tucker will recover, but you must remember that he had other problems that have not yet been resolved. That was the reason you went down to that planet in the first place. You must be prepared for the fact that this experience may only make things more difficult for him."

Archer rubbed his hand across the back of his neck in frustration. "We were so close. If you could have seen him down on that planet – if you could have heard him – he laughed and joked just like he did before we went into the Expanse. The mischievous gleam in his eye was back. So was his enthusiasm for life." This time it was Archer's turn to sigh. "I thought he was getting better." There was a great sadness in his voice.

"You mustn't give up hope, Captain. In cases like this, patients often take two steps forward and one step back. The fact that the commander responded well to your away mission is a good sign. For the moment, however, Mr. Tucker needs to rest, and so do you."

"Okay," Archer said wearily, "I can take a hint. I'll go back to my cabin and get some sleep. Maybe Trip will feel more like talking tomorrow. Take good care of him."

"I will, Captain," Phlox said sincerely.

With Archer on his way back to his quarters, Phlox turned his attention to his other patient. Slowly, he walked over to Tucker's bed and checked the engineer's vital signs. "Can I get you anything, Commander?" he asked. "Are you thirsty?

The engineer shook his head.

"Are you in pain?"

Slowly, Trip lowered his arm and looked into the Denobulan's eyes. "It's not important," he mumbled.

"Of course it's important," the doctor huffed as he pulled a hypospray from his pocket and administer an analgesic. When his patient failed to respond, Phlox asked softly, "What are you thinking, Mr. Tucker?"

"I'm tryin' real hard not to think," Trip answered. His voice was filled with a hopelessness that Phlox found disturbing.

"You must remember that things are not always as they seem," the doctor said reassuringly. "Your friends are devoted to you. You can draw strength from that."

"I don't want friends."

Taken aback, Phlox answered forcefully, "That's nonsense. You need your friends, now more than ever. And quite frankly, they need you, too. They depend on you."

"Don't say that," Trip said hoarsely. "I don't want anyone to depend on me."

"You accepted that responsibility when you became a Starfleet officer," Phlox snapped. As soon as he saw a look of abject shame wash over Tucker's face, he realized that he had spoken in haste. He was supposed to be a source of comfort for his charges, not condemnation.

"You're right," Trip said numbly. "I was just bein' selfish. It won't happen again."

"Mr. Tucker, you misunderstand me…"

"I have to quit feelin' sorry for myself and get on with my life."

Warily, Phlox searched the young engineer's face. "Things will look better once you've had a chance to rest and recuperate. You should feel proud of your accomplishments, Mr. Tucker. Your record as a Starfleet officer is exemplary."

Trip scrubbed a hand over his eyes. "Thanks."

"Why don't you try to get some sleep?" Phlox cajoled. "I can sedate you, if you think that would help?"

"There's something I have to do first," Tucker said.

"I don't…"

"I need to contact someone on Earth."

"That can wait until tomorrow."

"No." Tucker was surprisingly firm considering his weakened condition. "I need to do it now. Please. I need your help."

"You may talk to anyone you like, Commander, tomorrow…after you've rested." Phlox folded his arms, letting it be known that he would not be moved.

"Okay, you win," Trip responded wearily. He shifted his weight slightly and grimaced. "But I'm countin' on you to keep your word."

"I will speak with Ensign Sato. You may contact anyone you like… tomorrow."

"In private?"

"In private." Phlox produced a hypospray and pressed it against the commander's neck. In spite of himself, he couldn't help but smile. "Goodnight, Mr. Tucker. Try not to worry. You must be patient."

"Night, Doc," Trip mumbled. "Don't know what I'd do without ya."

As Trip drifted off to sleep, the doctor lowered the lights and headed back to his medical lab. He began to speculate on the recipient of tomorrow's call and found himself hoping that the commander intended to contact his parents. The man desperately needed closure. Making peace with his parents would be a giant step in the right direction.

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

I would also like to thank everyone who has read the chapters I've posted. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review them.

CHAPTER 17: HOSHI

"Are you going to see Gannet when we get back to Earth?" Hoshi asked as she and Travis walked down the corridor to the conference room. "She's really sweet on you, you know."

Travis ducked his head shyly and smiled. "I wish I could see her, but she's not on Earth. Starfleet Intelligence decided to send her to Vulcan for three months." When Hoshi looked up at him questioningly he added, "Nothing covert this time, just showing the flag. By the time she gets back to Earth, _Enterprise_ will probably be long gone."

Smiling sympathetically, Hoshi responded, "That's too bad. I think the two of you are perfect for each other: one to steer the ship and other to make sure that nobody rocks the boat."

"What's this about somebody rocking the boat?" Lieutenant Reed said casually as he came up behind them.

"I just asked Travis if he was going to see Gannet, but she's off-world right now," Hoshi answered.

"That's a pity," Malcolm said with a smirk. "Once it became apparent that she wasn't trying to kill all of us in our beds, I discovered that she has a number of redeeming qualities."

"Thanks…I think," Travis said warily as he opened the conference room door and followed Malcolm and Hoshi inside.

Commander T'Pol was already seated at the table next to Doctor Phlox. They had been speaking quietly to each other, but stopped when the three junior officers entered the room.

Commander Tucker stood apart from the rest of the group. He had staked out a spot for himself next to the viewport and the others respected his need to distance himself. Totally engrossed in the padd he held in his hand, he failed to acknowledge the arrival of his fellow officers.

Phlox grinned broadly as he greeted his colleagues. "It's good to see you all looking so healthy," he said glancing from one to the other. "A little peace and quiet seems to agree with you."

"Peace and quiet may be all well and good," Reed said dryly, "but I've always found that a little action can be equally beneficial." He turned toward Hoshi. "Does anyone know why the captain wants to see us?"

"Don't look at me," Hoshi said. "I'm just as much in the dark as you are."

Undaunted, Reed turned to T'Pol. "Commander?"

Just as she was about to speak, Captain Archer walked through the door. Seeing Trip standing off by himself, he said, "Commander Tucker." Trip looked up immediately when he heard his name. "Please join us." Archer motioned to the chair next to him. Tucker hesitated for a split second then walked over and sat down next to the captain. He put the padd on the table in front of him and folded his hands on top of it.

Hoshi studied the two commanders. T'Pol was essentially unchanged. She was as calm and composed as the day she boarded _Enterprise_ for the first time. Commander Tucker, on the other hand, was a very different man. He was no longer the outgoing person who'd gone out of his way to befriend everyone. Since his return to duty following his convalescence, he'd had minimal contact with members of the crew, even those in his own department. He never laughed or smiled or told a joke. Movie night seemed to be permanently cancelled, and people walked around him like he was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. Always a keen observer of human nature, Hoshi found this to be intriguing, since Trip had never seemed to be more in control. His unkempt appearance and emotional outbursts were a thing of the past. He performed his job flawlessly, and his dedication to _Enterprise_ never seemed to waver. If only he hadn't turned himself into the Tin Man, everything would be just fine.

"We have a new assignment," Archer said as he took his seat at the head of the table. "_Enterprise_ has been ordered to Vulcan." He paused, giving everyone a moment to absorb the news.

Hoshi immediately turned toward Travis. She wasn't surprised to see a big goofy grin spread across his face. _What a lucky break_, she thought happily. Now all she had to do was make certain that Travis didn't fool around and miss this opportunity to get together with Gannet.

The communications officer returned her attention to the matters at hand when Archer straightened his shoulders and launched into his presentation. "Our encounter with the Romulan drone ship was a wake-up call. We now know that there are people out there who are actively attempting to destabilize this area. With the Coalition, we have a framework for a coordinated response to any and all threats to the security of this region. Now we need to establish the protocols to make the Coalition work."

The captain looked pointedly at T'Pol. "The Vulcan government is reorganizing its fleet." A single raised eyebrow was the only response from the self-possessed first officer. "It didn't take long for T'Pau and the other leaders of the government to realize how vulnerable they are. They're now fully committed to ensuring that all of their ships have a full crew complement. _Enterprise_ has been asked to make an official visit as Starfleet's representatives to discuss ways in which our peoples can work together to secure this area of space. Once the Vulcan fleet is ready, there's a good chance that we will be asked to participate in joint maneuvers. Later, if things go well, the Andorians, Tellarites, and other Coalition partners may also be asked to participate."

Malcolm, who had been nodding his head in agreement, leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. "Excuse me, sir, but why are representatives from the other species being excluded from these initial discussions? I'm sure the Andorians will want to be involved."

"I agree with you, Malcolm. But it's one thing to agree in principle to cooperate with species that were once your enemies; actually working with them is something else again. It was decided that it would be best to give the other species a little more time to get used to the idea of the Coalition before we all sit down together and talk about fleet deployments."

"I see," Malcolm said. "I suppose that makes sense. However, we can't forget that it hasn't been that long ago that our embassy on Vulcan was bombed. I would like to discuss security arrangements with the Vulcans before we begin any talks."

Archer pressed his lips together and leaned back in his chair. Hoshi felt sure that at that moment, the memory of Admiral Forrest was foremost in his mind. "I'm sure that can be arranged," the captain said tightly. "T'Pol, would you work with Lieutenant Reed to coordinate security arrangements."

"Yes, sir," T'Pol replied.

"Does this mean that the Vulcans might finally be willing to share technical information with us?" Tucker asked quietly.

"Don't jump the gun, Trip," Archer said. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "The fact that the Vulcans are willing to include us at all is a huge step forward. I think that the open exchange of technical information is probably still a ways off, but you never know. We might get lucky."

T'Pol looked sharply at Archer then over to Commander Tucker. Hoshi got the distinct impression that she wasn't too happy with either man at the moment.

"Earth is also responding to the Romulan threat," Archer continued. "Admiral Gardner informed me that Starfleet has begun construction on the NX-03 and NX-04. They're being given top priority. We're probably looking at two years to launch, but Starfleet is pushing for early completion.

"Given the problems they had getting _Columbia_ out of dry dock, Starfleet wants to pick our brains to avoid any potential delays. When Commander Tucker pulled off his miracle with _Columbia_'s warp engine, the Starfleet brass suddenly saw the value of practical hands-on knowledge…and a little bit of genius." Archer smiled fondly at his chief engineer. "Since I can't loan you out every time they want to launch a new ship, we're going to have to give them all the help we can in advance."

Tucker didn't return the smile. He only nodded once then lowered his eyes.

Turning his attention back to the other officers seated around the table, Archer continued, "Weaponry, communications, and engineering are obviously the areas of greatest concern. Travis, you should be prepared to be debriefed on navigation as well as helm-related issues. Doctor, Starfleet Medical is also interested in any necessary upgrades to sickbay." The smile quickly slipped from the captain's face. "They're especially interested in developing contingency plans for treating large numbers of casualties."

"Of course," Phlox said. "I can think of a number of improvements that need to be made."

"Good," Archer said before turning his attention back to the other officers around the table. "Inform your seconds. Be sure everybody's up to speed. When we finish the talks on Vulcan, we'll be putting in at Jupiter Station. Oh, and Hoshi, I thought you'd like to know that they've decided to name the NX-04 the _Yamato_."

Hoshi wasn't exactly sure why this pleased her, but it did. She'd been away from Japan for many years, and her relationship with her parents wasn't particularly close, but there was no question that she was still proud of her country and its rich heritage.

"Are there any questions?" Archer asked as he looked from face to face. When no one responded, he continued, "Travis, how long do you estimate it will take us to reach Vulcan?"

Mayweather paused for a moment considering. "We're presently traveling at Warp 3.5. If we continue at that speed, we should reach Vulcan in about two and a half weeks."

"When you get back to the bridge, increase your speed to Warp 4," Archer said. "We need to shave some time off of that estimate. If there are no questions, you're dismissed."

Hoshi looked across the table at the two commanders, one seated on either side of Doctor Phlox. They rose almost in unison and, without making eye contact with each other, walked purposefully out of the room. A frown wrinkled the ensign's brow as she continued to stare at the now vacant chairs. A puzzling situation was developing around these two officers, and she didn't quite know what to do about it.

"Is there a problem, Hoshi?" Archer asked quietly. Having risen to his feet, he now looked down at her with a slightly quizzical expression on his face.

"No," she stammered, "well…maybe yes. There's something strange going on."

Archer looked up to see the door shut behind Doctor Phlox. "Everyone's gone. What seems to be the problem?"

Hoshi sighed. She wasn't sure if she was doing the right thing. The last time she'd questioned an officer's message, Commander Tucker ended up reading Sub-Commander T'Pol's private correspondence. Now it was his privacy she was about to violate.

"Just tell me what's bothering you, Hoshi. It can't be that bad."

Pushing her chair back, she rose and started to walk. When she reached the end of the table, she turned back to face the captain. "Commanders Tucker and T'Pol have been receiving a large number of messages for the past week."

Archer tilted his head and frowned slightly. "Letters from home? From colleagues?"

"I don't think so. They're each getting five to ten messages a day, and always from unidentified sources."

"Do you know the point of origin for these messages?"

"There is no single point of origin." She shifted nervously as she continued with her explanation. "They're being sent from all over: Earth, Mars, Vulcan, Jupiter, the Moon. Some of them are even coming in on secure Starfleet channels."

"Do you know the contents of these messages?" Archer must have noticed Hoshi's horrified expression because he quickly added, "I'm not suggesting that you would do anything unethical, Ensign. I just wondered if Trip or T'Pol might have dropped a hint about the subject matter."

"No, sir," Hoshi added, somewhat relieved.

"Have Trip and T'Pol in my ready room at 1300 hours. Oh, and Hoshi, I'd like you to be there, too. And you'd better include Malcolm. I'm assuming this is nothing, but you never know. These are troubled times. I don't want to take any chances with the security of _Enterprise_."

"Right away, sir," Hoshi said before heading out of the conference room. While she walked back to the bridge, she ruminated on her decision to reveal the existence of the messages to the captain. Deep in her heart, she knew she'd done the right thing. There was a very real possibility that there was more at stake here than mere friendship or the betrayal of trust. Nevertheless, she wasn't looking forward to the meeting with the commanders.

- - - - - - - - - -

"Ensign Sato informed me that the two of you have been receiving a steady stream of messages from unidentified sources." Archer's gaze never left his two senior officers. "Is there something you would like to tell me?"

For the first time in a long time, Hoshi saw fire flash white hot in Commander Tucker's eyes. Evidently the anger was still there, buried deep beneath the surface. Maybe it had always been. Undoubtedly, Commander T'Pol was also displeased, but true to form, she managed to maintain her dispassionate demeanor.

"Isn't there enough to keep you busy, Ensign?" Tucker spat at Hoshi. "You sure seem to have plenty of time to spy on us."

Hoshi felt her cheeks redden and, biting her lip, she looked away.

"That's enough, Commander," Archer snapped. "You wouldn't be reacting like this if you didn't have something to hide. Now I want to know what's going on. What are these messages you and T'Pol have been receiving, and who are they from?"

Tucker exchanged a quick glance with T'Pol and clamped his mouth shut, lowering his eyes to the floor. Standing rigidly with his hands behind his back, this was not the picture of a man who was willing to share a confidence.

"I can make it an order if I have to, Commander," Archer said firmly to Tucker.

Trip's head snapped up. At first Hoshi thought he might give in, but then he said, "I can use a rest. The brig's as good a place as any."

Displeased, Archer took a step forward, placing himself firmly in front of Tucker. Pulling himself up to his full height, he looked like a knight preparing to do battle. Trip's jaw muscles worked furiously as he fought to control himself. It was obvious to everyone in the room that he didn't intend to back down. With an ugly confrontation looming, Malcolm stirred uneasily beside Hoshi.

"It will not be necessary to place Commander Tucker in the brig," T'Pol said quietly.

"T'Pol," Trip murmured, his emotions swinging wildly from fury to concern and apprehension, "you don't have to do this. They don't need to know."

"On the contrary, Commander," T'Pol said softly. "I believe that it is time for others to be made aware of our situation. The danger may not be to us alone."

"Danger?" Malcolm was immediately on the alert. His head swiveled back and forth from one commander to the other. "What danger?"

"T'Pol?" Archer said softly. Even though he was speaking to his Vulcan first officer, the captain's eyes never left Trip's face.

"We have been receiving threats," she said matter-of-factly. "No two messages come from the same location, and they are always anonymous. They threaten us with violence if we do not end our relationship and publicly acknowledge that it was an affront to nature and to decency for us to be together." T'Pol's voice was now barely above a whisper. "We must also publicly denounce our child as an abomination."

Hoshi saw the titanic struggle going on behind Commander Tucker's eyes. She could tell that this vile situation was tearing him apart, but then he shook himself slightly and suddenly the emotionless, controlled automaton was back. Taken aback, Hoshi simply stared. She didn't know what was more disquieting, the vicious, hate-filled messages or the unnatural way in which the commander was now able to cut himself off from everything around him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Archer was stunned. He reached out and placed a hand sympathetically on Trip's shoulder, but the younger man only stiffened and remained aloof. The captain's head spun around to face Malcolm. "Did you know anything about this?"

"Absolutely not," Malcolm said grimly. "I'd like to see these messages. I promise to be discreet."

T'Pol once again glanced over at Tucker. He held her eyes as he said, "We deleted them. They were filth, pure and simple. There's no way we're going to deny Elizabeth, especially for a bunch of scum-sucking bastards who are too cowardly to sign their names." Trip looked away. "Besides, we aren't together anymore. There's no relationship to offend their delicate sensibilities."

"I wish you hadn't done that," Malcolm said in no uncertain terms. "These…people need to be caught. Their messages might have given us some clue to their identities."

"I'm sure there will be more," T'Pol murmured.

"Hoshi," Archer said tightly, "forward all future messages to Lieutenant Reed."

"Aye, sir."

"Trip," the captain continued gently, "I think you should contact your family. They need to know about this. Tell them to be careful."

"This has nothing to do with my family," Trip said coolly.

"Don't be naïve," Archer answered, probably more forcefully then he intended. "These people are ruthless. They'll strike at you in any way they can. At least, contact your parents."

"It won't make any difference," Trip countered. "My parents aren't going to change the way they live for anyone or anything."

"Do it anyway," growled Archer. "That's an order."

"If there is nothing else, Captain," T'Pol said in a carefully controlled voice, "I would like to return to my duties."

Archer nodded and fixed his eyes on the two commanders. "From here on in, I don't want any secrets. If anyone contacts you, if you receive any more threats, I want to know about it. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Trip said grudgingly at the same time T'Pol answered in the affirmative.

"Good. Get back to your posts."

Trip stood aside and allowed T'Pol to exit first. Before he left, he fixed the captain with a look that seemed to warn and beseech at the same time. Hoshi couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief when he finally walked out the door.

"Malcolm, I expect to be notified as soon as you know anything. I don't think we can afford to take these threats lightly. Trip and T'Pol don't need any more grief in their lives."

"I understand, sir," Malcolm said resolutely. "I'll get right on it."

Ensign Sato prepared to leave, too, but before she reached the door, the captain approached her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Hoshi, you did the right thing. Don't worry about Trip. He's upset now, but he'll get over it. This is not something that should be kept secret. It's far too dangerous." She looked up at him gratefully. She knew that she had only done her duty, but it was still good to hear him say the words. Archer squeezed her shoulders once then released her. "Now get me Admiral Gardner. I think I should warn him that Terra Prime isn't as dead as he thinks."

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

I would also like to thank everyone who has read the chapters I've posted. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review them.

CHAPTER 18: T'POL

Order or no order, she knew he hadn't done it. He hadn't contacted his family.

Since his return to duty, she had spoken to Commander Tucker privately only once – the day she told him about the vicious messages she had been receiving, only to discover that he too was being harassed. Against her better judgment, they had agreed to delete the messages and remain silent. She knew that Trip saw them as a meanspirited nuisance. Unfortunately, she saw a more sinister purpose behind them.

If only he took them seriously, maybe they could… No, she brought herself up short. She would not go down that road again. She had accomplished her goal. He wanted to have nothing to do with her. Professionally, they were able to work together smoothly and efficiently, but it was obvious that whatever feelings he once had for her were gone. For once, success brought her no satisfaction.

T'Pol finished dressing then picked up a padd to review her schedule for the day. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, she briefly allowed herself to contemplate the dangers Trip's family might be facing. Tapping the padd lightly against her hand, she knew that she had to do something. The memory of holding her mother in her arms as she died was still too fresh, too raw. She did not want him to experience a similar tragedy. She should talk to him. Placing the padd on her desk, she headed for the bridge

The day passed uneventfully. Starfleet had forwarded specifications for the two new starships. She spent hours pouring over them and formulating her recommendations for needed changes and upgrades. It was an important and thought-provoking assignment, and she soon became totally engrossed in the many possibilities.

"T'Pol," Archer said as he walked over to stand in front of her science station. "I thought you'd like to know that Admiral Gardner just called. Starfleet Intelligence has arrested several of the people behind the messages you and Trip have been receiving. All of them are members of Terra Prime. Evidently the organization is far more wide-spread than anybody realized. The trial of Paxton and the other leaders just drove them deeper underground. It may take a little time, but the Admiral assured me that they wouldn't stop until Terra Prime is no longer a threat to you or anyone else."

"Have you told, Commander Tucker?" T'Pol asked quietly.

Archer took a deep breath. T'Pol knew that the captain's relationship with the chief engineer had been rather strained of late, as Trip systematically shut himself off from everyone. When Archer looked at her again, the weariness in his eyes was unmistakable. "I was just on my way to do that."

"I am sure he will appreciate knowing."

"Yeah. I guess he will." The captain rubbed a hand across his face and started to walk away. He'd only gone a few steps when he came to a screeching halt and made a quick 180 degree turn. "Hoshi, has Commander Tucker contacted his parents?"

"Not to my knowledge," Hoshi answered. When Archer scowled, she quickly added, "At least there is no record of a call. Perhaps an error was made."

"I doubt it," Archer said peevishly. "Damn him." His eyes swung back toward T'Pol. "I ordered him to contact them. I know he has issues with his parents, but you would think that, under the circumstances, he could put that behind him. If anything happens to them, he'll never forgive himself. I guess I'll just have to sit on him until he does it."

"I will take care of it," T'Pol said.

"That's not necessary. I'll go see him. He's just being stubborn."

"No," T'Pol clarified, "I will contact Mr. & Mrs. Tucker."

Archer was clearly surprised by her statement. "I'm not sure that's a good idea," he finally said.

"Commander Tucker is still not himself. If he is not comfortable speaking with his parents, why press the issue? Perhaps with a little more time…"

"Let's take this into my ready room," Archer interrupted.

Perplexed, T'Pol rose and followed the captain. She couldn't help but notice that he seemed to be slightly agitated. This made no sense. She had said nothing that would cause him any discomfort.

When the door had closed securely behind them, Archer started to say something then shook his head and walked over to his desk. He picked up a padd then nervously put it back down again.

"Captain?"

Archer turned abruptly to face her. "What I'm about to tell you is confidential. You must promise me that you will not mention this to anyone else."

"Of course," T'Pol said. She was frankly surprised that he felt the need to caution her. He knew she could be trusted.

Abandoning his desk he began to pace around the room, ducking his head under the beams as he went. "Not long after Paxton's trial, Starfleet Intelligence sent me a report on Terra Prime sympathizers. Trip's parents figured prominently in that report."

Taken aback, T'Pol asked, "Does the commander know about this?"

"I'm afraid so," Archer said regretfully. "I didn't want him to see the report, but I…miscalculated. He was absolutely furious. He blames his parents for the death of…"

"…Elizabeth," T'Pol whispered.

Archer nodded. "As it turns out, Starfleet Intelligence made a mistake. Trip's parents had virtually no involvement with Terra Prime. They made a few inquiries about the organization; that's it. During Paxton's trial, Mr. Tucker even made a public statement repudiating Terra Prime. I explained this to Trip, but he won't listen. I thought that if I could get him to talk to his mother and father, he might find a way to make peace with them. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea. I think the hurt is buried so deep that he can't let go of his anger."

T'Pol folded her arms tightly across her chest, fighting hard to remain in control. "You think that because I am Vulcan…an alien…his parents will not speak with me?"

"I honestly don't know, T'Pol," Archer answered wearily. He stopped pacing and looked her squarely in the eye. "The Tuckers are good people. I can't believe they would knowingly hurt anyone, especially Trip or any of his friends."

Summoning her courage, T'Pol said, "His parents need to be informed of the danger Terra Prime poses. If Commander Tucker will not do it, I would like to try."

"Okay," Archer said resignedly. "As long as you understand what you're getting yourself into."

"I will make the necessary arrangements. Thank you, Captain." T'Pol left the ready room and started across the bridge. As she neared the turbolift she said, "Ensign Sato, please contact Mr. Tucker's parents. When you reach them, put the call through to my quarters."

- - - - - - - - - -

Why was this taking so long? T'Pol did her best to sit quietly and remain calm. She looked longingly at her candles, but reasoned that there would not be enough time to gain any measurable benefits from meditation.

But why should she need to meditate? These people were no different than any of the other humans she'd met over the years. She would speak to them. They would see the logic in her warning. Her task would be complete.

Restless, she rose and moved about her quarters. This was a mistake. Why had she foolishly agreed to contact Commander Tucker's parents? He was a grown man – a responsible officer in Starfleet – he should not have to be told to communicate with his mother and father. Strength of character and devotion should overcome all obstacles.

Finally, she walked over to her monitor and stared at the blank screen. She had taken into consideration the difference in time. It was early in the morning on Earth, but not early enough to be inconvenient. Maybe they were not at home. She turned away from the monitor. Maybe they would refuse to take her call. She was an alien. Perhaps they believed the slander that had been heaped on her during the trial.

Suddenly, an image appeared on her monitor. T'Pol wasn't sure what she had expected, but it wasn't a pretty, middle-aged woman with short golden brown hair. Quickly regaining her composure she sat down and said, "I am trying to contact Mr. & Mrs. Charles Tucker, Jr. Is this their residence?"

The woman scrutinized T'Pol carefully before replying. "My parents aren't here. May I ask who you are?"

"I am Commander T'Pol, first officer of the Starship _Enterprise_."

In an instant the woman's face changed from wary to fearful. She raised one hand to her mouth then, seeming to think better of it, lowered her hand carefully to her lap. In a voice husky with emotion, she whispered, "Has something happened to Trip?"

T'Pol gave her head a subtle shake. "Commander Tucker is well. I apologize for any distress I may have inadvertently caused you."

The young woman relaxed noticeably and allowed a shy smile to play at the corners of her mouth. T'Pol suddenly realized that she'd often seen that same smile on Trip's face.

"You must think I'm terribly rude. My name's Suzanne Trevalyan. Trip's my little brother." T'Pol nodded in recognition. This woman had Trip's blue eyes and his open, expressive features. With her curly hair and thinner face, she bore only a modest resemblance, however, to her younger sister, Elizabeth. "I'm afraid that my parents aren't here. They're out on their boat with my husband and our kids. Can I help you?"

T'Pol hesitated. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed that Mr. & Mrs. Tucker were unavailable. _I am being overly emotional_, she silently cautioned herself. _These people have no place in my life_. With that in mind, she squared her shoulders and asked, "Are you familiar with the organization, Terra Prime?"

Suzanne instantly sobered. "Of course I've heard of Terra Prime. I watched the trial." Her mouth pursed in disapproval. T'Pol steeled herself for the disgust and revulsion she knew was coming. "They should have turned that verteron array on those sorry bastards and made everyone's life a whole lot easier. Trip didn't need that kinda grief…" Pausing, she scrutinized T'Pol then added softly, "…and I'm guessin' you didn't either."

T'Pol did not know what to say. This was not what she had been led to expect. As she struggled to formulate a response, a noise in the background caught Suzanne's attention. "I'll be right back." Trip's sister jumped up and hurried away.

While she waited, T'Pol's mind was flooded with memories of the trial. She'd never felt more exposed or humiliated. If it hadn't been for Trip and his quiet strength…

"We're back," Suzanne said jauntily. "Sorry for the delay."

T'Pol blinked as she made the transition from reminiscence to reality. The sight before her took her breath away. Suzanne sat happily cuddling an infant in a soft blue sleeper.

"This is Megan Elizabeth. She's supposed to be napping, but I'm afraid she has a mind of her own, just like her Uncle Trip." Suzanne gently picked up one tiny hand then bent over and kissed the delicate little fingers. "After three boys, we'd just about given up on having a little girl, but here she is."

T'Pol could only stare at the infant in stunned silence as an unbearable pain sliced through her heart. Finally, she raised one trembling hand and lightly touched the screen. In the back of her mind the same words kept repeating over and over again. _This is not your child. This is not Elizabeth_.

"Are you all right?"

Vaguely aware that Trip's sister was trying to communicate with her, T'Pol fought to focus her attention. The concern was clearly visible on Suzanne's face as she repeated her question. "Are you all right?"

"How…old is she?" T'Pol had to force the words past lips numb from shock and pain.

Suzanne hesitated then answered, "She'll be six months old in a couple of weeks."

T'Pol squeezed her eyes shut as she fought to control her emotions.

"The baby they mentioned at the trial was made from your DNA, yours and Trip's?"

Pulling her hand away from the monitor, T'Pol opened her eyes and forced herself to look at the baby. She had tiny rounded ears. This infant was not her child. "Yes, she was my daughter," T'Pol said quietly. "Her name was Elizabeth."

"I'm sorry for your loss." Suzanne lifted her baby up to her shoulder and gently patted the little girl's back. "If I'd known that Meg would upset you, I would have left her in her crib."

"I am not upset," T'Pol said, but she was afraid that her tremulous voice betrayed her true feelings.

"I guess this explains why Trip never responded to the pictures I sent when Meg was born. I figured he was just too busy. Now I can see that it was something else altogether."

T'Pol straightened her back and pulled herself together. She was Vulcan. She would not defile the memory of her child by allowing her emotions to control her.

"In the past week, members of Terra Prime have sent threatening messages to Commander Tucker and me. Starfleet Intelligence has arrested several of the people responsible, but there are others – possibly many others – who are still at large. There is no indication that they might target those close to us, but it would be wise for you and your family to exercise caution."

Suzanne held her baby a little closer. She was obviously distressed, but managed to keep her emotions in check. "I appreciate the warning. I'll tell Mom and Dad, and I'll call my brother and his wife."

"If you receive any threats," T'Pol continued, "or notice anything suspicious, contact Starfleet at once. They will assist you in any way they can."

"You be careful, too. And tell Trip to watch himself. You're the ones with the targets on your backs."

"It was…pleasant meeting you and your daughter. I regret that it had to happen under these circumstances."

"It was nice gettin' to know you, too. My parents are gonna be real upset that they weren't here to take your call."

Heartened by Suzanne's response, T'Pol said softly, "Please send me those pictures of your daughter. I will see that Trip…that Commander Tucker gets them."

A smile lit up Suzanne's face. "Mom and Dad have been real worried about Trip. I'm gonna tell them that they can finally relax. I think you have him well in hand." T'Pol's eyebrow flew up. This statement was definitely unexpected. Trip's sister took Meg's tiny hand in hers and waved. "Thanks for the call. Bye now."

The monitor went dark, and T'Pol was left alone with her thoughts. She hadn't believed that it was possible for the wound left by Elizabeth's death to still be so raw and painful. She must deal with it. She had managed to close off her feelings when her mother died; she must do so again. Rising from her chair, she moved about the room lighting each candle in turn. Duty demanded that she return to the bridge. Self-preservation demanded that she meditate. Duty, for once, would have to wait. 

- - - - - - - - - -

"Chamomile tea. Hot." T'Pol removed the steaming mug from the drink dispenser and looked around the mess hall.

"Over here, Commander."

T'Pol looked to the left and saw Doctor Phlox motioning for her to come and join him. For a split second she considered heading for one of the empty tables, but decided that she did not wish to offend the jovial physician. He had been a good friend to her over the years, and she was grateful for his presence on the ship. Not only was he a fine doctor and a trusted confidant, but, as a fellow alien on a human ship, he could relate to her in a way that no one else could. With one final glance at an empty table in a distant corner of the room, she turned and made her way over to join the Denobulan.

Phlox pulled out a chair for her and waited quietly while she seated herself. When she was comfortable, he said, "It's good to see you. I've been so focused on my work over the last few days that it seems like I've lost touch with everyone and everything around me. Today I just felt the need to mingle." A huge grin spread across his face. "Have you tried the pasta primavera?" He used his fork to motion toward the plate in front of him. "It's quite delicious."

T'Pol sighed inwardly. It was obvious that the doctor was in one of his expansive moods. The table in the corner was looking better all the time. "I am sure that Chef has excelled, as usual," she said calmly, "but I only came in for some tea."

"It's not good to skip meals. We must all keep up our strength to meet the challenges that lay ahead."

"I ate a late lunch," she said patiently. "I will eat dinner in my room later this evening. Vulcans understand the importance of keeping fit in body, mind and spirit."

Phlox shoveled a fork full of pasta into his mouth and chewed happily. Swallowing, he looked over at T'Pol and asked, "Are you looking forward to returning to your home planet?"

T'Pol sat quietly for a moment as she pondered the question. The last time she set foot on Vulcan she was forced to watch helplessly as her mother died in her arms. The pain of her passing was something T'Pol had to struggle to control every waking minute of the day. Many of the things she had believed in since childhood were exposed as false or flawed when the Kir'Shara was returned to the Vulcan people, and even the once rock-solid High Command had been exposed as corrupt. Everywhere she looked, chaos swirled about her, leaving her with little solid to cling to. There was only Trip…Trip who had stood willingly amid the turmoil ready to anchor her. And what had been his reward for his devotion to her? She had selfishly pushed him aside to explore what it meant to be a Vulcan. And when he'd asked to be included, she had denied him even that.

With an almost undetectable shudder she returned her attention to the doctor. He sat quietly waiting for her to respond to his question. His silence and the pensive look on his face seemed to indicate that he understood her need for a few moments of quiet contemplation.

"I am, of course, interested in participating in the restoration of the Vulcan fleet," she finally replied haltingly. "And I miss the heat…and the dry air. It will be good to be warm again."

"The changes on Vulcan have indeed been breath-taking, Commander, as have the changes in your own life," Phlox observed wistfully. "Sadly you are not the only one caught up in circumstances beyond your control." He picked up a padd that lay just to the left of his tray. "I just received a letter from Doctor Lucas."

"How is he? I trust that he has fully recovered from the abuse he suffered at the hands of the augments." T'Pol raised her mug to her lips and took a sip.

"He's well," Phlox replied soberly. "Fortunately his injuries left no lasting effects…at least not physically." The doctor pushed his tray away and leaned forward, gazing intently at the padd he held in his hands. "He confided in me that he still has nightmares. Most of them center on the vicious murder of his colleague. Jeremy still feels some responsibility for his death."

"It is illogical for Doctor Lucas to feel responsible for a death that was clearly caused by others." T'Pol looked up as a crewman accidentally bumped into her chair. "Doctor Lucas knew the potential dangers posed by the embryos, and he fought to keep them out of Doctor Soong's hands. He is a brave man."

The doctor shifted nervously in his seat. "Jeremy feels guilty about giving Soong the information he needed to gain access to the embryos." Phlox dropped his eyes to the table then said quietly, "I regret the part I played in it as well. No one should have to decide between saving another person's life and betraying a trust. If I hadn't been there, Jeremy wouldn't have been placed in such an untenable position."

"It is true that your presence made it easier to coerce Doctor Lucas, but Doctor Soong and the augments were ruthlessly single-minded. They would have killed everyone at Cold Station 12 in order to break down Doctor Lucas' will to resist."

"Thank you for that, T'Pol." Phlox smiled, but it was obvious that his heart wasn't in it. "Guilt and fear are indeed powerful emotions. They can rob us of so many worthwhile things: self-confidence, peace of mind, joie de vivre." He sighed deeply and sat back in his chair. He tossed the padd down on the table in front of him. "Most of Jeremy's colleagues at Cold Station 12 have decided to leave. They were concerned about being so isolated, so vulnerable. I can't say that I blame them."

"Doctor Lucas has chosen to remain?"

"Yes," Phlox sighed. "Reading between the lines, I think he feels that by staying, he's doing penance." Suddenly the doctor's face brightened. "But on a happier note, he is proceeding with his research. I believe that we can both look forward to many more years of stimulating correspondence."

T'Pol marveled at the doctor's resilience. Like a compass pointing true north, his even-tempered personality always seemed to seek out and find the good in things. "When you answer his letter, please convey my best wishes."

"Thank you, T'Pol, I'll do that."

Phlox nodded his head and smiled in recognition as Hoshi and Travis walked passed them, trays in hand. Mayweather continued on to a nearby table, but Hoshi stopped and turned around. "Excuse me for interrupting, Commander, but Mr. Tucker is looking for you. He's in the launch bay working on one of the shuttlepods."

"Did he say why he wanted to see me?"

"He said something about having problems, but I'm afraid he wasn't specific."

"Thank you," T'Pol said.

Having delivered the message, Hoshi quickly headed over toward her table. Travis rose and pulled her chair out for her. When she was seated, the two ensigns quickly turned their attention to the food on their plates.

T'Pol finished her tea and set the mug on the table. "If you will excuse me, Doctor, I need to find Commander Tucker. Please ask Chef to save some of the pasta for me."

"Of course," Phlox said amiably as he picked up her mug and put it on his tray. "I don't think you'll be disappointed. And T'Pol, thank you for listening. That dreadful business on Cold Station 12 has been weighing on my mind for quite some time."

"Please feel free to call on me if you would like to talk again. Good-bye, Doctor."

Leaving the mess hall, T'Pol moved at a steady pace toward the launch bay. In the past Mr. Tucker had often asked her advice when he was confronted with difficult problems. He had seldom done it of late. She had repeatedly made it clear to him that she would always be available to help him. Perhaps he was beginning to realize that it served no useful purpose to isolate himself.

As T'Pol entered the launch bay she saw a young crewman headed toward her. "Where is Commander Tucker?" she asked authoritatively. The crewman pointed toward one of the shuttlepods and continued on his way out the door. It only took her a few moments to cover the remaining distance and arrive at her destination.

"You wished to see me, Commander," T'Pol said as she entered Shuttlepod Two.

"Hey," Trip said distractedly. He was stretched out full length on the floor, working on the circuitry underneath the main control panel. "Have a seat. I'll be right with ya."

T'Pol picked her way carefully over his legs and took a seat on one of the benches. After several minutes of silence, there was a rather spectacular spark, a yelp of pain and a mumbled string of profanities.

"Are you all right?" T'Pol asked.

"I'm fine," Trip muttered irritably. "Just burned ma finger."

"I was told that you wanted me to assist you?"

"Just keep your britches on." Trip made a final adjustment, returned his tools to his tool kit, and scrambled to his feet. Sucking on his singed finger, he made his way over to the other bench and sat down across from T'Pol. He removed his finger from his mouth and, after assessing the damage, sat back and stared at her intently.

T'Pol found his scrutiny to be rather unsettling. This was not what she had been led to expect. "I am busy, Mr. Tucker. Please tell me what you want. I cannot afford to be away from the bridge for too long."

Trip leaned forward and, planting his forearms on his thighs, clasped his hands together. "I don't need any help," he said quietly. "I just wanted to talk to you in private. This seemed like a good place."

Suddenly uneasy, T'Pol lifted her chin. "I believe our quarters would have been more appropriate for a private conversation."

The commander shook his head ruefully and countered, "I needed a neutral site. Our quarters have too many memories for both of us. This is better."

"Better for what?" T'Pol was becoming concerned. "Are you unwell?" Trip shook his head. "Is there a problem with your family?"

"I'm fine. My family's fine." Trip ran a hand nervously through his hair. "But we aren't fine."

Bewildered, T'Pol murmured, "I do not understand."

"We've been growin' apart for a long time." Trip suddenly stopped speaking and pressed his lips together. T'Pol could see the muscles in his jaw working furiously. Finally, he drew a shaky breath and got down to business. "I think it's time we consider severing our bond."

"No." The whispered word sprung unbidden from T'Pol's lips. She knew their relationship was no longer viable, but to break their bond – to lose him completely – that was not possible.

Trip looked deeply into her eyes. "I've been talking to Ambassador Soval…"

"Soval?" T'Pol shook her head. Things were moving too fast. She couldn't take it all in.

"…and he told me what we have to do to sever the bond." Tucker shifted restlessly. "As a matter of fact, he's prepared to make all of the necessary arrangements."

"You discussed our personal affairs with Ambassador Soval?" T'Pol said shakily.

Trip leaned forward and took her hand in his. "I'm sorry, T'Pol. I know I should have consulted you first, but I think we both know that this is the right thing to do. There's nothing left between us. Severing the bond will give us both a chance to get on with our lives. Maybe now you'll be able to find a little happiness with…someone else."

"Vulcans do not experience happiness," she murmured.

"Of course they do," he said poignantly. "We were happy once, weren't we?" When he reached out to lightly brush her check, she jerked her hand out of his grasp.

"You were happy," she said, her voice cracking. "Do not assume more."

His body stiffened. For a split second he dropped his guard, allowing her to see the profound hurt in his eyes. Quickly regaining his composure, he wearily leaned back and rubbed a hand across his forehead. "Do you agree that severing our bond is the logical thing to do?" he asked softly.

She knew he was right, but now that it was time to turn thought into action, she couldn't bear to walk away from him. She didn't want someone else; she wanted him. He was her life. He had loved her and cared for her in ways she hadn't thought possible, but the cost to him was too great. Regardless of her feelings, she knew that she had to go through with this for him.

"T'Pol?" He looked beseechingly into her eyes as though he was begging her to say no.

She knew she had to answer him, but the words stuck in her throat. All she could do was nod her head.

"It's decided then," he said huskily. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes. For a few moments, his breathing sounded a bit labored, but with effort, he pulled himself together. Finally, he ran his tongue over his lips and opened his eyes. "I would appreciate it if we could do this without tellin' the captain. We kept something pretty important from him. I don't think he'd be too pleased."

"Our bond is a private matter," T'Pol answered quietly. "It does not concern him."

"I'm afraid he might see things differently."

T'Pol looked into his eyes. A part of her rejoiced that he felt their bond was important, but she could not afford to contemplate a life that could never be. "I am sure that we can keep this matter private. I will contact Ambassador Soval and finalize the arrangements."

"I can take care of it."

"No," T'Pol answered sharply, "this is a Vulcan matter. Our bond formed because of my carelessness. I will not compound my mistake by refusing to take responsibility for seeing that it is properly severed."

"What we had wasn't a mistake, T'Pol."

He looked at her with such sadness that her heart went out to him. She desperately wanted to comfort him, but she knew that just one touch would weaken her resolve. "You are human. I am Vulcan," T'Pol said rather more coldly than she intended. "Our bond was an accident that should never have happened. This is a fitting end for an aberration."

Trip jumped up and stood glaring down at her. His hands clenched into fists. "I guess I'm glad that our bond means so little to you," he hissed. "It will make things a whole lot easier. Just tell me where to be and what to do. I'll be glad when it's over and done with." He moved toward the hatch. "See ya around, Commander."

She didn't have the strength to say good-bye. He was gone, but she continued to sit in the shuttlepod, silent and alone. She regretted that she had made him angry, but in the end she knew it would make things easier for him. In a few short days, all that held them together would be dissolved and from that moment on, nothing would ever be the same between them.

As she sat numbly pondering the future, one thing was clear. She could not remain on the same ship with Commander Charles Tucker III. To continue to see him, hear him, smell him and not be able to be with him was clearly intolerable. She had spent too much time with humans. It was time to return to Vulcan.

But what about her duty to Starfleet and to Captain Archer? It was important for her to stay on _Enterprise_, at least until the upcoming talks were completed. She could play a vital role by helping to bridge the cultural gulf that separated Vulcans and humans. Surely she could avoid Commander Tucker. She had done so often enough in the past. When the talks were completed, she could look to her future – a future without humans, especially humans with dark blond hair. She would speak with Soval. She had always valued his counsel in the past, even when she chose to disregard his advice.

Suddenly aware of her surroundings, her eyes traveled around the interior of the shuttlepod. These musings were not productive. She had a great deal to do before _Enterprise_ reached Vulcan. T'Pol closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She rose silently, walked to the hatch and exited the shuttlepod. As she headed back to the bridge, she reminded herself that she now had one additional duty to perform. She had to contact Ambassador Soval to finalize the arrangements that would sever her bond to a human and break her heart for all time.

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

I would also like to thank everyone who has read the chapters I've posted. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review them.

CHAPTER 19: SOVAL

Soval leaned his head back and closed his eyes, allowing the searing rays of the Vulcan sun to wash over his face. In an instant, the world about him fell away, and he was filled with an abiding sense of peace and well-being. In the minutes that followed, his breathing slowed and his muscles, taut from endless meetings and negotiations, began to relax.

"Excuse me, Ambassador."

Soval took a deep breath, held it, and exhaled slowly. Lowering his head, he opened his eyes. A Vulcan diplomatic attaché stood patiently in front of him. "The delegation from _Enterprise_ will be arriving in four minutes. Minister T'Pau asks that you proceed to the landing platform immediately, sir."

"Tell her I will be there in time to greet our honored guests."

Having successfully delivered his message, the attaché made his way back to the magnificent government building that had been the home for the Vulcan High Command until it was disbanded.

Soval took a last look around the large meditation garden which was located adjacent to the structure. From the days of his youth, he had always found the Vulcan capital to be aesthetically pleasing. The structures, parks and walkways were a reflection of all that was best in Vulcan culture: control, logic, order and purity of line. If only life could always conform to these ideals.

Although Soval would have preferred to spend more time in meditation, it would be unseemly to be late. Leaving the garden behind, he entered the towering reddish stone building and moved at a steady pace through the corridors of power. He acknowledged several minor officials when he passed by them, but he gave them no thought. When he reached the lift, he took it nonstop to the upper floor.

Though he tried to retain the inner peace he had felt when the rays of the sun first touched his face, his mind was restless. The strategic talks were vital to the future of his world, but they weren't the only thing that occupied his mind. He had agreed to help in the dissolution of a Vulcan bond. This, as always, was not a matter to be taken lightly. T'Pol and Commander Tucker had both seemed committed to this course of action. Soval only hoped they were doing the right thing.

The _Enterprise_ officers would be arriving at a small, private landing platform which was cantilevered from the upper story of the government building. When he exited the lift, Soval walked across a wide reception hall…down a corridor…through a large carved stone archway…and out to the landing platform. Once again warmed by the rays of the sun, Soval joined the waiting Vulcan dignitaries. From the looks on the faces of those present, few observers would suspect that these people were about to participate in an historic endeavor, signaling a new era of joint cooperation between Vulcan and Earth.

As usual Admiral Kiran, with his grey hair and imposing physique, was the most striking figure in the group. The commander of the Vulcan fleet stood off to one side, deep in conversation with two of his captains and Minister Sulin. Captain V'Lin, a stocky man of average intelligence, always seemed to stand willingly in the shadow of his mentor, Kiran. He was still relatively young to have been given command of one of Vulcan's finest ships. Soval hoped that he was equal to the challenge.

Captain Sirek, on the other hand, was a bold, resourceful commander. Soval knew that if Kiran gave Sirek his head, he could be an important figure in the reorganization of the fleet. Unfortunately, Sirek was a man who thought for himself. As long as Kiran was in control, that could work against him.

The elderly Sulin, pinch-faced and emaciated by years of illness, presented a stark contrast to the two robust fleet captains. Soval was not surprised to see the elderly man conversing with Kiran. Both men disliked and distrusted humans almost as much as they did the Andorians. If Kiran and Sulin had their way, there would be no Coalition. Vulcan would stand alone.

"I am glad that you could join us, Ambassador," T'Pau said as Soval walked over to her.

With every passing day, Soval was more impressed with T'Pau. She was poised, wise and absolutely fearless. With her in charge, he knew the government was in good hands.

"Good day, T'Pau." Soval glanced over to a small woman with jet black hair who was speaking to Minister Kuvak. "I am surprised that T'Lan is not with the admiral's group," he said quietly.

T'Pau lifted her chin. "Although her views are essentially the same as Kiran's, I believe she finds him tiresome."

Soval raised an eyebrow knowingly.

"Is everything ready?" T'Pau asked when Ministers Vaaris and Speth joined them.

"Yes," Speth answered soberly. "I only hope the humans remember their manners. Kiran and his supporters will feel justified in opposing the Coalition if there are any emotional displays."

"I don't believe you have any cause for concern," Vaaris answered in a cultured, unemotional voice. "Captain Archer and his senior staff are skilled in interspecies diplomacy." Only slightly older than T'Pau, Vaaris was tactful, widely respected, and extremely intelligent. He had a brilliant future ahead of him.

Looking off into the distance, Soval could see the _Enterprise_ shuttlepod on its final approach. For a moment, he allowed his mind to wander back to the first time he'd met Jonathan Archer and his crew. Since that day, so many things had changed for both of their species. The mentor/pupil relationship was a thing of the past. Now their peoples were meeting as equals. In spite of domestic turmoil, both Earth and Vulcan had emerged as the driving forces behind the Coalition that sought to stabilize this region of space and provide for a common defense against alien predators. Traditional ideals were being challenged. Compromises would have to be forged. Soval stuck his hands up the opposite sleeves of his robe and squared his shoulders. Yes, he mused, it was a satisfying time to be alive.

Soon after the shuttlepod touched down the hatch opened and Jonathan Archer stepped out, followed by his senior officers. Even from a distance, Soval could see the tension in Archer's face. A great deal was riding on these joint talks.

As T'Pau walked forward to greet the captain, Tucker moved around to stand on Archer's right while T'Pol and Reed took up positions on his left. All hands stood at parade rest.

"Live long and prosper," T'Pau said, raising her hand in the traditional Vulcan greeting.

Returning the gesture, Archer responded, "Peace and long life."

"It is good to see you again, Captain, especially since our current circumstances are far more propitious than our last meeting."

"It's good to see you, too, T'Pau," Archer said then turned to his left. "I'd like to introduce my officers. You know Commander T'Pol."

"Commander," T'Pau said as she and T'Pol exchanged the Vulcan greeting.

"Lieutenant Reed is my armory officer."

Reed nodded, keeping both hands clasped firmly behind his back.

Archer turned to his right. "And this is my chief engineer, Commander Tucker."

T'Pau stared at Tucker appraisingly. "Commander, I have been looking forward to meeting you. I do not believe that my government has ever thanked you formally for the part you played in averting a war with the Andorians."

Tucker, clearly surprised by T'Pau's statement, replied graciously, "The real thanks should go to Ambassador Soval and to the crew of _Enterprise_. They did the hard work, as did you, ma'am, working down here with Captain Archer and Commander T'Pol." For a brief moment he allowed a small smile to play on his lips. "I'm just real glad that everything worked out."

"As am I, Commander."

T'Pau studied him intently for a few more seconds before returning her attention to Archer. "Some of the people with whom you will be working in the next few weeks have agreed to be here today. Let me introduce them to you." Turning, she motioned for Archer and his officers to follow her. "You, of course, know Ambassador Soval and Minister Kuvak, but I don't believe you have met Admiral Kiran. The Admiral has command of the Vulcan fleet."

Soval saw the look of distaste that flitted over the admiral's face. He only hoped that it had gone unnoticed by the humans. Kiran had always held firmly to the position that Vulcans were superior to humans in every way and were, therefore, obligated to monitor and control their access to technology and alien cultures. He was not going to be an easy man to deal with. Archer clearly had his work cut out for him.

"This is Captain Sirek. He is in command of one of Vulcan's newest ships, the _Sas-a-shar_. The officer next to him is Captain V'Lin of the _Tar'hana_." T'Pau looked Archer squarely in the eye. "The _Tar'hana_ is the sister ship of the _Seleya_."

Archer's eyes immediately went to V'Lin, but the Vulcan captain's carefully controlled features told him nothing, even though the fate of the doomed ship, _Seleya_, was still a sensitive subject with officers in the Vulcan fleet. When T'Pau moved on to the next person, Soval noticed that Archer exchanged quick glances with his officers. Admirably, they all managed to keep their features neutral, even though he could detect a trace of concern in their eyes.

On a positive note, Soval mused, perhaps T'Pol's presence was finally having a positive impact on Archer and his crew. As Vaaris had predicted, the three human officers appeared to have their emotions firmly under control.

"You will become acquainted with my fellow Ministers over the next few weeks. Ministers T'Lan, Vaaris, Speth, and Sulin," she pointed to each official in turn, "are all firmly committed to ensuring the safety of Vulcan and her people."

When the introductions had been made, Kuvak stepped forward. "Captain Archer, we are gratified that you are able to participate in these talks. Please follow me. I believe that you and your officers will be more comfortable out of the sun."

Archer squinted quickly at the red sky blazing overhead. "Thank you, Minister. That would be appreciated." Glancing at Soval, Archer murmured, "Ambassador, would you join us."

As they walked along Kuvak lowered his voice and said, "If there is, in fact, an organized force trying to destabilize this quadrant, we must act quickly to meet it. It is obvious that your task here will not be an easy one, but you must persevere. You have my unequivocal support. You can also count on T'Pau, Vaaris, and Soval to assist you in any way they can."

"Thank you, gentlemen," Archer said quietly. "Earth is as concerned about this situation as Vulcan. I will do everything I can to make this alliance work, as will my officers."

"Good." Kuvak stepped aside and motioned for Archer to precede him through an open doorway into a large meeting room. The room, done in subtle tones of grey and blue, contained little more than a large circular table surrounded by high-backed chairs made of some sturdy metal alloy. The only decoration in the room was a large hexagonal plaque which was mounted on the far wall.

"Be seated," T'Pau said as soon as she entered the room.

When everyone had taken a seat, T'Pau remained standing. "Surak tells us that, 'Change is the essential process of all existence.' We are now in a period of momentous change. These strategic talks may well decide whether our two species will flourish or whether we will cease to exist as an independent people. With that in mind, we must put aside our differences and come to the table with open minds.

"Admiral Gardner and Admiral Uhlani will be arriving from Earth later today, as will Minister Nathan Samuels. We have also asked Ambassador V'Lar to participate in these discussions. Over the years she has demonstrated an aptitude for relating to people of other cultures. She will also be a familiar face, Captain, to you and your crew." Archer nodded. "The ambassador is presently on board the _Ti'Mur_. She will arrive in three days. Until then we have much to discuss. I suggest that we spend the next few days comparing notes on the engagement with the drone ship and the current state of affairs in this quadrant."

"It would be helpful if we had more information on the Romulans," Archer said. "Aside from running into one of their mine fields, we know virtually nothing about them."

When the other Vulcans remained silent, it was finally left to Soval to respond. "The Romulans are a secretive people. I'm afraid other species know little about them. Judging by their drone ship, they are both duplicitous and militaristic. We must assume that their intentions are not honorable."

"Yes, but…"

"I believe it would be helpful for us to adjourn into smaller groups," Kuvak interjected quickly. "The _Sas-a-shar_ and the _Tar'hana_ were both a part of your sensor net, Captain Archer, but they never came in contact with the drone ship. I'm sure that Captain V'Lin and Captain Sirek would be interested in any data you might have on the marauder. I know that Lieutenant Reed has expressed an interest in intelligence and security matters. Minister Vaaris is well versed on those subjects. And Commander Tucker, of course, will want to discuss engineering with…"

"Excuse me, Minister," Soval interrupted before Kuvak could continue with his assignments, "I would like Commanders T'Pol and Tucker to join me for the remainder of the day. There is some…research that we must complete before the meetings commence."

Perplexed, Archer looked first at Trip then over to T'Pol. Both officers refused to meet his eyes, keeping their gazes fixed firmly on the table in front of them. "Of course, Ambassador," Archer said, "my officers will cooperate in any way possible."

Without wasting any time, Soval stood and motioned the two commanders toward the door. T'Pol and Tucker rose in unison and, without making eye contact with each other or anyone else, silently followed the ambassador out of the room.

As they neared the landing platform, T'Pol said, "We can take the shuttlepod, Ambassador."

- - - - - - - - - -

No one spoke during the short journey to Mount Seleya. Soval took advantage of the silence and allowed his mind to once again drift back to his first encounters with the crew of Enterprise. He realized that in his mind, Charles Tucker III had represented everything that Vulcans found dangerous and irresponsible about humans. He had a volatile temper, often spoke without thinking, and gave no thought to the consequences of his actions. In the ensuing years, however, that had all changed. Tucker had grown into a fine officer and, with his engineering expertise, had become a tremendous asset to Starfleet.

Soval leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. It had been a call to an old friend that had first forced him to see the commander in a new light. Gratified when he'd heard about T'Pol's marriage to Koss, Soval had contacted T'Les to offer his congratulations. She had been reticent about the wedding, choosing instead to talk about a human colleague T'Pol had brought home for a visit. As she spoke it became apparent that T'Les had developed a grudging respect for that colleague, Commander Tucker.

Shortly after that, Soval had the opportunity to watch Mr. Tucker in action on the bridge of _Enterprise_ during the Vulcan Civil War. The impulsive hothead was gone, replaced instead by a seasoned, poised officer. Here was a man who was confident enough in his own abilities to accept advice from others, who was cautious without losing the will to act, and who was willing to take great risks to accomplish something he believed in. He was a man of character, loyalty and determination who had, against all odds, earned Soval's admiration.

"Thirty seconds to landing, Ambassador," T'Pol said.

Snapping out of his reverie, Soval looked over at T'Pol. At first glance she appeared to be in complete control of her emotions, but her rigid posture and the tightness in her voice indicated that she was only maintaining that control with a great deal of effort. Concerned, Soval shifted his gaze back to the chief engineer. Tucker sat immobile with his eyes fixed on the shuttlepod's deck plating. Judging by his clenched fists and the rigid set of his shoulders, he was very distressed. They did not look like two people who were comfortable with the idea of dissolving the bond that united them.

As soon as the shuttlepod was on the ground, T'Pol rose gracefully, walked over to the hatch and opened it. "It is time to go," she said softly. Hearing her voice, Tucker raised his head. The naked pain in his eyes was only palpable for a moment, but it was long enough for Soval to realize that he needed to have another talk with the young man about the inherent dangers of attempting to sever a bond against one's will. He thought he had explained it clearly in an earlier conversation, but he obviously had not been explicit enough.

"Commander Tucker, I do not believe that you fully grasp…"

"Not now, Soval," Tucker muttered as he stood up abruptly and followed T'Pol out of the shuttlepod.

The Sanctuary which loomed before them had been constructed many centuries ago to closely follow the contours of Mount Seleya. In order to seek enlightenment, a visitor was first required to climb twenty wide stone steps. Eight large stone urns – four to a side – anchored the outer edges of the steps at regular intervals. At the head of the stairs, a landing pointed the way to the large circular inner chamber. This was surrounded on three sides by a series of smaller rooms which burrowed into the side of the mountain.

As they began to climb the stairs, Soval told Tucker, "You cannot enter the inner chamber in your uniform, Commander. The necessary clothing will be provided for you. You can change while T'Pol meditates."

"Meditates?"

"The ceremony is very demanding," T'Pol answered. "I must meditate to focus my thoughts and my strength. It would be wise for you to do the same."

"How long do you have to meditate?"

"Until I am prepared to face this ordeal," T'Pol snapped back.

"T'Pol, I…"

"I will try to be brief." Her voice was slightly more controlled, but her words still had a bite to them. "I do not wish to prolong this any longer than necessary."

An attendant met them at the top of the stairs and led T'Pol down a dimly lit corridor to one of the chambers where she could change her clothes and meditate. Soval ushered Tucker in the opposite direction.

The two men entered a Spartan chamber with rough stone walls. The only light was provided by tall white candles that gave the room an eerie glow. Thick white mats covered a portion of the floor. Soval took a deep breath. The room smelled of candle wax, heated stone, and antiquity, a combination of aromas he found particularly pleasing. He hoped that the commander would also find it soothing. It was essential for him to relax.

The suit and robe Tucker was required to wear for the ceremony were laid out on a bench in the far corner of the room. Without wasting any time Trip began to strip off his uniform.

"Do you need assistance?" Soval asked.

"No thanks. I think I can manage."

The commander's experience at T'Pol's wedding obviously held him in good stead. He had no trouble donning the dark blue Vulcan suit and grey outer robe. Seeing the engineer nervously fiddling with the collar, Soval decided that it was time to lend a hand.

As soon as he touched the commander, an unsettling image popped into Soval's mind. He saw a man trapped in the middle of a raging river, desperately clinging to a tree limb to avoid being swept away by the torrent. This extreme agitation was clearly unacceptable.

"You must calm yourself, Commander. T'Pol is correct. It would be wise for you to meditate."

Tucker pulled away from the ambassador. "I don't want to meditate. I just want to get this over with and head back to _Enterprise_."

"A composed, disciplined mind is needed for the dissolution to take place. Do you understand that you and T'Pol must both be committed to severing this bond? There can be no lingering feelings between the two of you."

Trip ran a trembling hand through his hair. "You don't have to worry. She doesn't want to have anything to do with me." He brushed past Soval and headed over to the doorway. Looking out into the corridor, he asked tensely, "What's taking so long?"

"Commander, this is not to be taken lightly. If you have any desire to remain bonded to T'Pol, even in the deepest recesses of your mind, any attempt to sever that bond can prove fatal. You must swear to me that you do not care for T'Pol and have no desire to remain joined with her." 

"I told you that I'm willin' to do whatever it takes to put an end to this," snapped Tucker. "There hasn't been anything between us for a long time."

"You have not answered my question." Soval was becoming increasingly concerned by the young man's evasiveness. "Tell me that you do not have feelings for T'Pol, and the ceremony can move forward."

"Fine! I'll say anything you want me to say!"

"Commander!" Soval planted himself in front of Tucker.

"T'Pol means nothing to me!" Tucker shouted. "Is that what you want to hear?" He took a deep shuddering breath then added in a harsh whisper. "She means nothing…to me. It was all…just…a mistake."

Without a second thought, Soval reached over and firmly pinched the commander's shoulder. When Tucker went limp, he carefully lowered him to the ground. For a moment Soval knelt there looking into the troubled face of the young man he'd come to think of as a friend. It was obvious that Mr. Tucker was holding something back. Soval could not risk endangering his life. He had to know the commander's true feelings for T'Pol. He regretted what he had to do, but he had been given no other choice. Placing his left hand on Tucker's face, the ambassador began the ancient chant: "My mind to your mind. Our minds are merging. Our minds are one."

TBC


	20. Chapter 20

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

I would also like to thank everyone who has read the chapters I've posted. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review them.

CHAPTER 20: T'POL

T'Pol stood alone in the stark stone chamber. The young attendant had wanted to stay and help her dress, but T'Pol had sent her away. She could change into her robes later. She didn't want any company. She didn't want a witness to her struggle.

The smell of candle wax permeated the air around her, but instead of bringing her comfort, it only called forth forbidden memories of evenings spent with Trip. Quickly suppressing those thoughts, she began to pace restlessly around the room. What was wrong with her? She had carefully prepared for this moment. Their bond had been dormant for months. He wanted this. She wanted this. It was the logical thing to do. It should be so simple, but it wasn't. What about her feelings for him – had she buried them deeply enough? When the time came to bare her soul, could she continue to deny him?

She stopped and shook her head. She had to meditate. Walking over to one of the white mats, she dropped to the floor and sat cross-legged. Time was running short. Closing her eyes, she began her breathing exercises. She quickly realized that she could control her breathing, but she could not control her thoughts. All of her fears quickly surfaced. Were they really committed to being apart? Severing a bond could be dangerous to both parties if the desire to separate was not sincere. Was this a risk worth taking? Was she willing to pay the ultimate price? And what of the danger to him?

She shifted nervously then straightened her back and tried once again to center herself. Breathing slowly in and out, her mind drifted in a fruitless search for the tranquil white space where she could begin to make sense of things. But what if he, too, was meditating? What if she reached her white space and found him there waiting for her? Did she really have the strength to turn away from him?

As she struggled with her concentration, she was suddenly aware of movement close by. Opening her eyes, she saw Soval standing before her.

"T'Pol, you must not do this," he said softly, but with a hint of steel in his voice.

"I am trying to meditate," she answered tightly. "Please leave."

"I cannot stand by and allow you to endanger the life of another."

She took one more deep breath then slowly got to her feet. "This matter does not concern you, Ambassador. Commander Tucker and I have agreed upon this course of action. I must see it through."

"Commander Tucker may have agreed to this, but it is not what he desires."

"How do you know this?"

"I have touched his mind, and I know that he still cares for you." Soval took a step toward her. "He is in love with you, T'Pol."

She shook her head and abruptly turned away. Her lips pressed together as she fought against the surge of emotion that swept through her. He still loved her. After all they'd been through – after all she'd done to hurt him – he still loved her. What had she ever done to deserve such devotion?

When she turned back, there was no mistaking the concern in the ambassador's eyes. "You touched Commander Tucker's mind?" she asked disbelievingly. "He allowed this?"

"He was unconscious." When T'Pol bristled, he added, "It was the prudent thing to do. He was not behaving like a man who was no longer interested in his bondmate. I had to know the truth."

"You believe that he will be harmed if we attempt to sever our bond?"

"Yes. I shouldn't have to remind you that severing a bond against ones will is tantamount to ripping away a portion of the mind. Under the best of circumstances, this ceremony places great demands on the Vulcan physique. The human body is considerably more fragile. When you take into account the passionate feelings Mr. Tucker still has for you, there is little hope that he would survive." Soval studied her carefully. "I believe that you are in danger as well," he added gently. "You do still care for him, don't you?"

T'Pol hesitated. She had to choose her words carefully. "He is my friend."

"I think he is considerably more than that." Soval walked over to the bench at the far end of the room and, shoving her robes aside, sat down. "It is obvious that you care for each other. Why do you wish to sever your bond? Is it because he is human and you are Vulcan?"

"No. That has not been a barrier between us."

"Your union would be very difficult, but it would not be impossible. When you discussed bringing your relationship to an end…"

"We did not discuss it."

Soval stared at her incredulously. "You have never talked about ending your relationship?"

"It was a decision that I made."

"Don't you think that Commander Tucker should have been consulted?"

"I did what was best for both of us," T'Pol whispered. This conversation was making her increasingly uncomfortable. "I did what was logical, given the circumstances."

A frown creased Soval's brow. "Commander Tucker believes that you no longer care for him. He thinks that you have entered into a relationship with Captain Archer. Is he correct?"

T'Pol shifted nervously then walked over to the bench and scooped up her robes. After leaning over and depositing them on the floor, she sat down next to Soval. When she started to speak, she could not bear to meet his eyes. "I did not discourage those thoughts."

"But why?"

"I was concerned for the commander's safety. The best way to protect him was to bring an end to our relationship."

The look on Soval's face indicated that he was clearly perplexed. "Explain."

"After the death of our daughter, I was overwhelmed by my emotions. The commander…Trip…helped me to regain my control, but the demands I placed on him were too great and his health began to suffer. I could not allow that to continue. We had to be apart. I knew that if Trip believed that the captain and I wished to be together, he would step aside and our relationship would come to an end."

"You lied." Soval's voice began to rise.

"I never stated that I cared for Captain Archer."

"Why practice deception when it would have been far more logical to bring this out into the open and discuss it?"

T'Pol dropped her head. "It has never been easy for us to talk." She knew that her answer was weak at best, but it was the truth.

"You, of course, know that Commander Tucker is still unwell."

"The illness is not the same, but yes, I know that he is unwell. It is of great concern to many members of the crew. Unfortunately, he has refused all help. Even the captain can no longer reach him."

When Soval remained silent, T'Pol looked over at him. His lips were pursed and an inner battle seemed to be taking place. When he finally spoke, the words were said softly, but with deliberation. "There are some things I need to tell you, but they must be kept in confidence." When T'Pol nodded in agreement the ambassador took a deep breath and continued. "Even though you have hurt him deeply, his affection for you is undiminished. He clings to his memories of your time together; they seem to give him strength. Unfortunately there are other thoughts…darker thoughts that concern me."

T'Pol swallowed hard. "I would like to know what they are."

Soval turned to face her. "He feels responsible for many of the tragedies that have occurred since the Xindi attack on Earth."

"That is absurd."

"Of course, it is absurd; nevertheless, that is what he believes. He is also afraid that any implications of mental instability will put an end to his career."

T'Pol groaned inwardly. So many things were beginning to make sense. "That is why he would not allow Doctor Phlox to treat him."

"Yes. He believes that once his medical records show any hint of an emotional breakdown, he will never be given command of a ship. In fact, he fears that he will be forced to leave _Enterprise_."

"Captain Archer would never allow that to happen."

"Be that as it may, his fears are not unfounded, T'Pol. Starfleet cannot afford to have unstable officers in high-profile postings."

"He is not unstable. He is the strongest man I know." She would not countenance this negative assessment of Commander Tucker. "He was under tremendous pressure in the Expanse and his conduct was beyond reproach."

"He is confused and weighed down by guilt, grief and worry. And you have only made the situation worse. He does not understand why you turned away from him."

T'Pol got to her feet. With her arms wrapped tightly about her, she paced over to the doorway and back again. "I have been a fool," she said with bitterness in her voice. She knew that what Soval said was true. She had tried to protect Trip, but ultimately she had only succeeded in making the situation far worse. When Trip's world was falling apart – when he needed her the most – she had abandoned him.

"Commander Tucker will be regaining consciousness soon," Soval said. "Do you want me to explain to him why your bond cannot be severed?"

T'Pol straightened her shoulders and said, "That will not be necessary. I will explain it to him. I will tell him the truth: Our bond cannot be severed because of my feelings for him. He does not need to know about the mind meld."

"As you wish," Soval said. Then he rose and motioned for her to precede him out of the chamber.

As they walked down the corridor, they heard a commotion up ahead. Quickening their pace, they exited the corridor and walked outside onto the landing. Commander Tucker stood near the head of the stairs, massaging his left shoulder, while he yelled at a young priest. As soon as he noticed T'Pol and Soval, Trip lost all interest in the priest and turned his anger on them.

"I want to know what in the hell is going on here!" As soon as Tucker focused his wrath on Soval, the priest beat a hasty retreat. "You and I are carryin' on a polite conversation, and the next thing I know I'm pickin' myself up off the floor! What did you do to me?"

"Calm yourself, Commander," Soval said quietly. "I needed a few moments to speak with T'Pol."

"And for that, I had to be unconscious?"

"It helped."

Irate, Tucker took a step toward Soval, but T'Pol immediately stepped between them. "Trip, please come inside with me. I have to talk to you."

"I don't want to talk. In case it's slipped your mind, we came here to sever our bond."

"I am aware of that," she said soothingly, "but there have been some… complications."

"What complications?"

T'Pol tried to remain calm. "If you will come inside…"

"Anything you have to say to me, you can say right here," Trip spat back.

"All right." In his present frame of mind, it would probably be best to get straight to the point. "It will not be possible for us to sever our bond."

Tucker looked daggers at T'Pol. "Why not?"

Standing face to face with the Commander, T'Pol suddenly realized how weak and implausible the truth sounded. Why should he believe her? Why, after all she'd done to push him away, should he willingly accept that she cared deeply for him? Because Vulcans place such a high value on the truth, T'Pol had never fully appreciated the human fable of the little boy who cried wolf. She had a sinking feeling that the true meaning was about to be made all too clear to her.

"Because of my feelings for you," she whispered.

Tucker stared at her in utter disbelief then threw back his head and started to laugh. As he raked his fingers through his hair, he backed up a couple of steps in an attempt to put some distance between them. "You've got to be kiddin'! Now you suddenly have feelin's for me!" He shook his head. "T'Pol, you've had me on a roller coaster ride for the past two years. Well, I'm tired and I want to get off. We came here to sever our bond, so let's do it and get it over with. Then you can go your way, and I can go mine."

"Trip…," T'Pol murmured tightly as she extended her hand to him.

"No! I've had enough!" 

Agitated, Tucker jerked away from her. As he stepped back, his foot became tangled in the hem of his robe and he pitched backward. T'Pol lunged for him and managed to grab one long, flowing sleeve before he tumbled down the flight of steps. At the same time, Soval's hand whipped forward and grabbed the front of Tucker's robe. After securing their holds on him, the two Vulcans pulled the commander away from the stairs. Still off balance, Trip's feet went out from under him and he landed in a heap at their feet.

Trip rolled over and stared back down the long flight of stone steps. Finally, he took a deep, shuddering breath and raised his eyes. He looked from one concerned Vulcan face to the other and mumbled, "Thanks."

T'Pol knelt down and quickly ran her eyes over the young engineer. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"I'm fine," Trip said sheepishly. "Sorry for bein' so clumsy. I guess I'm just not cut out for wearin' a robe. Give me a hand up, will ya?" T'Pol grasped Tucker's wrist and pulled.

When he was once again on his feet, T'Pol could tell that his anger had spent itself. The fires of betrayal and frustration no longer sparked in his blue eyes. But what was he truly feeling? She ran her hand lightly along his upper arm. "The sun is not good for you. Come inside and sit down."

"I told you, T'Pol. I'm okay."

"I know," she said quietly. "Come inside."

"Sure…why not," Tucker said. He made a sweeping motion with his arm, indicating that he would follow her. As they walked off, Trip hollered over one shoulder, "You might as well come along too, Soval. There's something I want to tell both of you."

T'Pol led them into one of the small chambers lit by the ubiquitous candles which are so much a part of Vulcan ritual and meditation. Trip walked over and flopped down wearily on the only bench in the room. T'Pol paused before sitting down beside him. She looked over at Soval, who remained standing by the doorway. She could see the concern written plainly across his features. Without looking at Tucker, she asked warily, "What did you wish to tell us?"

Tucker sighed and leaned back against the wall. "T'Pol, if you say we can't sever our bond," he said softly, "I believe you. I'm just not sure what that's gonna mean for us…well, for you mostly. I've been giving a lot of thought to what I want to do with the rest of my life and, to make a long story short, I've decided to leave Starfleet." T'Pol sucked in her breath, but did not interrupt. "I don't intend to turn in my resignation until we finish the talks with the Vulcans," he continued. "I wouldn't do that to the captain. But as soon as the talks are over, I'm gone." Tucker fixed his eyes on Soval. "But then you already know that, don't you, Ambassador?"

Soval stiffened. His eyes locked onto Tucker's and for a moment they seemed to engage in a silent test of wills. Finally, the ambassador took a couple of steps into the room and said firmly, "T'Pol, leave us. I wish to speak with the commander in private." Shaking her head, T'Pol started to protest, but Soval remained unmoved. "Leave us."

Pressing her lips together, T'Pol got to her feet and turned to look down at Tucker. She desperately wanted him to tell her to stay, but he refused to cooperate.

"It's all right, T'Pol. The ambassador and I just need to clear the air. When we get done, I'll meet you at the shuttlepod. I guess we might as well head back to the conference. There's nothing to keep us here."

With one final glare at Soval, she walked out of the room, head held high. As she slowly made her way to the shuttlepod, she was forced to admit that maybe her dismissal had been for the best. She needed time to think. He was going to leave _Enterprise_. They probably would never meet again. Though hardly unexpected, there was no question that Trip's revelation had shaken her. She'd thought there would be more time to prepare for their separation. Evidently, she had been wrong.

TBC


	21. Chapter 21

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

I would also like to thank everyone who has read the chapters I've posted. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review them.

CHAPTER 21: TRIP

As soon as he was certain that T'Pol was out of earshot, Soval said, "I believe I owe you an apology, Commander."

"I didn't think Vulcans apologized," Tucker responded quietly, "but under the circumstance…yeah, I think you do." His eyes never left Soval's face. "It's a funny feeling having somebody rummaging around in your head."

Soval raised one eyebrow, but otherwise remained motionless. "I did not think that you would be aware of my presence."

A smile tugged at the corner of Trip's mouth. "My mind's workin' all the time, Ambassador, even when I'm not. So, that was a mind meld?" Soval nodded. Unconsciously, Tucker raised a hand and slowly began to rub his temple. "After our embassy on Vulcan was bombed, I remember watching you get information from a man who was in a coma. It helped us to identify the bomber. Were things really so serious that you had to resort to that with me?"

Soval slowly made his way across the small chamber. Upon reaching the bench, he paused. Tucker slid to his left and Soval took a seat beside him. Both men kept their eyes focused straight ahead.

"I…regret that it was necessary to render you unconscious," Soval began. "I also regret that it was necessary to enter your mind without your permission, but you left me no choice. You were not behaving like a man who was prepared to sever the bond that joined him to another. You should be grateful that I stopped you. I know what you feel for T'Pol. Any attempt to sever your bond would have had grave consequences…for both of you."

"I doubt that," Tucker sneered.

"Do not underestimate T'Pol's regard for you, Commander. She cares deeply for you."

Trip shifted restlessly. "If she cares so much, why doesn't she want to have anything to do with me?"

"You will have to ask her that."

Tucker shook his head. "Every time I try to talk to T'Pol, we only end up fighting. Maybe the captain can make her happy. I sure never could."

"Vulcans do not experience happiness, Commander."

Tucker snorted and laughed humorlessly. "That's exactly what T'Pol said. I guess it's about time I start accepting the fact that the two of you know what you're talkin' about."

A frown passed over Trip's face as an unpleasant thought popped into his head. Had that been the problem all along? Did he really want a human wife? Did he want someone who could feel things as deeply as he did, someone with whom he could share the many facets of human emotions? Had he tried to force T'Pol to be something she wasn't, nor could ever be? Is that why she ran from him?

He wrinkled his brow. No, he couldn't accept that. He loved T'Pol for who she was. He didn't want her to change. Her Vulcan traits were what endeared her to him – made her special. Why hadn't he ever taken the time to make that clear to her? He had never expected her to return his love – not in the way that a human woman would – but he had hoped that she would care enough to want to be with him.

He knew she had once had feelings for him. As she regained control of her emotions – as she became more Vulcan – she began to push him away. The cultural gap that separated them was every bit as wide as the one the Xindi weapon had blasted through Florida. Maybe it was too big an obstacle for any two people to cross. T'Pol was the realist. Maybe this was the only way she could jolt him back to reality. He'd been holding his breath, hoping for a miracle that could never be. Their societies wouldn't allow it. Regardless of the pain, regardless of the emptiness he would feel each and every day, he would have to learn to live without her.

Sighing, Tucker once again became aware of his surroundings and the composed figure seated on the bench next to him.

"Apology accepted, Ambassador," he said wearily. Turning his head, he looked over at Soval. "I know that you were only trying to do what was best for me, and I wasn't cooperating. I'm sorry. I should have been honest with you from the beginning. You went to a lot of trouble for us. Thank you for that."

Suddenly, Tucker was uncomfortable with the way Soval was scrutinizing him. He'd seen that look before, and it usually meant nothing but trouble. "Well," Trip said, slapping the palms of both hands against his thighs, "I guess I should be goin'. Thanks again for the help, Ambassador."

As he started to rise, Soval asked, "Why do you want to leave Starfleet, Commander?"

Sighing, Trip sat back down. After giving the question some thought, he answered, "I guess I'm just tired of fighting. There never seems to be an end. Now I'm even fighting myself." He straightened his back and took a deep breath. "Besides, I figure that it's only a matter of time before Starfleet finds out that I'm no longer officer material. I'd rather leave with my head up before they decide to boot me out."

"I believe your actions may be a bit premature," Soval said. "There may be other options that you have yet to explore."

"Like what?" Tucker tilted his head as he tried to figure out where Soval was headed.

"I know that you are in a great deal of emotional pain. Your primary concern should be coming to grips with those feelings, not submitting your resignation to Starfleet. You need to find someone who can help you deal with your self-destructive emotions."

Tucker compressed his lips into a thin line as he fought to control his temper. "I'm not going to see some know-it-all psychiatrist, if that's what you're gettin' at."

"Remember that I have seen your thoughts, Commander. I know how much your career means to you."

"I'm an engineer," Tucker shot back. "I can get work anytime I want. I've already had a couple of real good offers. I don't need Starfleet."

"That may be true, but at the moment, Starfleet is an important part of your life. You do not want to give that up." Soval fixed his eyes firmly on the young human. "You have a natural gift for command, Mr. Tucker. I believe that, in the coming years, Starfleet will be in need of your skills."

Wrung out both emotionally and physically, Trip leaned back and rested his head against the wall. "Okay. Just out of idle curiosity, what do you have in mind?"

Soval folded his hands and turned to look at the commander. "Once when I was troubled, I spent some time here at the Sanctuary on Mount Seleya. I spoke often with a priest who helped me see things more clearly. I believe that he could do the same for you."

Incredulous, Trip stared at Soval. "You want me to see a Vulcan priest?"

"I want you to speak with the man who helped me. Torok is now the High Priest. He is revered throughout Vulcan for his logic and wisdom." Soval paused when Trip shook his head vigorously, but it didn't prevent him from forging ahead. "Starfleet will never know that you sought help, Commander. The only way you can endanger your career is to continue to do nothing to resolve your problems."

"This is crazy."

"You have everything to gain and nothing to lose."

"I'm not Vulcan!"

"That fact is made abundantly clear to me every time we meet."

Tucker scrubbed his hands over his eyes. Just when he thought his life couldn't get any more complicated, Soval had to go and prove him wrong.

"I don't know," Tucker mumbled as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think. He had always taken great pride in his ability to solve his own problems, but this time it wasn't working. No matter how hard he fought against his dark, destructive thoughts, he kept sliding deeper and deeper into the abyss. If he couldn't turn things around soon, he stood a good chance of losing everything he'd worked a lifetime to build. He couldn't allow that to happen.

Trip opened his eyes and looked over at Soval. "Do you think this High Priest would be willing to talk to me?"

"I believe so. Would you like me to seek him out?"

Trip wanted to say no. It would be so easy. All he had to do was get up and walk out. He knew Soval wouldn't follow him. He could return to _Enterprise_ and pretend that none of this had ever happened…until the next time his nightmares made it impossible for him to sleep…or his temper got the best of him…or Starfleet asked for his resignation. He groaned inwardly. He was backed into a corner, and he knew it. Soval had just pointed him toward a possible way out. Maybe he should take it.

"Yeah," Trip said quietly, I guess I would."

"Good," Soval said, then he rose and started for the door. Before he disappeared into the corridor, he paused long enough to say, "I know that you would prefer to change into your uniform, Commander, but please refrain from doing so. I believe that Torok will be more comfortable seeing you in your present attire." When Tucker nodded his head in agreement, Soval left.

Slowly, Trip rose and walked outside. From his place on the landing, he could see the shuttlepod parked below near the foot of the stairs. He knew that T'Pol was inside waiting for him. Pulling his robe about him, he hiked the hemline up far enough so that he could walk down the steps without worrying about getting his feet tangled up again, and he started down.

When he reached the shuttlepod, he found the hatch open. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside and walked over to where T'Pol was seated. She looked up at him and, for a moment, he allowed himself to get lost in the unfathomable depths of her eyes.

"Are you ready to leave?" she asked softly.

Her voice brought him gently back to reality, and he sat down on the bench directly across from her. "Not just yet," he answered. "Soval wants me to talk to some Vulcan High Priest, so I've decided to stick around for awhile."

T'Pol's eyebrow shot up.

Trip chuckled at her reaction. "Yeah, it kinda surprised me, too. Soval thinks this priest can help me with some of the problems I've been havin'." He shrugged his shoulders. "I guess it can't hurt."

"I think you've made a wise decision," T'Pol replied.

"Will you be headin' back to the conference? The captain is probably missin' ya."

"I will remain here," T'Pol said with a firmness that caught Trip by surprise.

He tilted his head inquiringly. "Has Soval got some secret agenda for you, too?"

"No. This could be a difficult time for you. You may find that you need the support of a friend. I believe that it is important for me to stay."

Trip was slightly taken aback. "That's not necessary, T'Pol. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself."

"I am aware of that. I will contact Captain Archer and tell him that we have not yet completed our…research. I am sure that he can manage without us for another day or two."

As Trip watched her stand and move forward to the pilot's seat, he tried to figure out what had just occurred. In spite of everything that had happened, she wanted to stay with him. Could Soval be right? Could she still have feelings for him? Trip scrubbed one hand across his forehead. No. He was tired of playing games. It was time for him to cut his losses and move on.

He stood and headed over toward the hatch. When he came up next to T'Pol, she turned toward him. "The captain is meeting with Admiral Kiran and Captains Sirek and V'Lin. He will contact me later."

Trip nodded. "Well, I guess I better be getting back. Soval may be looking for me." He hitched up his robe and stepped out of the shuttlepod. Once outside, he paused. There was still one thing that needed to be said. He turned back to look at her. As he took in the exquisite contours of her face and the warm glow of her complexion, he had to fight hard against the lump that was forming in his throat. "I'm sorry things didn't work out between us, T'Pol," he said huskily. "I'd give a lot for things to be different between us, but I guess it just wasn't meant to be."

Trip managed a half-hearted smile, but his words received no response. T'Pol sat unmoving, her jaw clenched and her hands folded tightly in her lap. There was sadness in her eyes, but there was also something more. If he didn't know better, he would have said that it was longing…but that didn't make any sense. He leaned in to take a closer look, but before he could make up his mind, she blinked and it was gone. Confused and disheartened, Trip turned around and headed back up the flight of stairs toward the Sanctuary.

- - - - - - - - - -

Tucker nervously scrubbed his hands together as he paced back and forth. What was taking so long? He'd been stuck in this same lousy room for over three hours. Trip wasn't exactly sure what high priests did, but if the guy was too busy to see a mere human, Trip figured that it was only polite for somebody to pass the word along. He could be back on _Enterprise_ right now preparing for the talks with Admiral Kiran and the rest of the brass from the Vulcan fleet. But no, he was stuck in another windowless, look-alike room, waiting for the little man who wasn't there.

He plopped down on one of the two long, stone benches in the chamber, fidgeted for a few moments, and then jumped back up again. Why had he ever agreed to go through with this nonsense? He should have just said no to Soval. Now he was trapped. The commander ran his fingers nervously through his hair. It was time to go. He'd waited long enough. Trip turned and started for the doorway, but, much to his surprise, his way was blocked by an elderly man in a black floor-length tunic and russet robe.

With an air of quiet dignity, the man pulled himself up to his full height and announced, "I am Torok, High Priest of Vulcan," in a rich baritone voice. Without waiting for a response, Torok turned and, with the aid of a cane, made his way slowly to the bench closest to the doorway. Even in a room illuminated solely by candlelight, Tucker could see that the Vulcan's skin was as wrinkled and thin as crumpled tissue paper. His hair was a pure snowy white, and he moved haltingly, but there was nothing frail or fragile about the man. Strength and self-confidence seemed to radiate from him.

Once he was seated, Torok fixed his gaze on Tucker. "I have observed humans for many years now, but you are the first one that I have met. Ambassador Soval tells me that you are an exceptional example of your species. Would you say that that assessment is true?"

It took several seconds for Tucker to realize that his mouth was hanging open. "Excuse me?"

"Would you say that you are exceptional, young man?"

Disconcerted, Tucker responded, "No, sir. I'm not much different than other humans." He briefly entertained the idea of taking a seat, but for some unknown reason he felt compelled to stand erect while in the presence of this elderly Vulcan.

"You are an engineer?"

"Yes, sir. I'm chief engineer on _Enterprise_, Earth's first warp-five starship."

"That is a position of great responsibility. You hold the lives of all aboard in the palm of your hand, do you not?"

"I never thought of it quite that way," Trip said uneasily, "but I guess that's right. If I don't do my job, a lot of people could end up paying for my mistakes."

"Do you believe that others have already paid for your mistakes?"

Caught off guard, Trip stared anxiously at the high priest. He knew this discussion was probably going to be difficult, but he figured they would get to know each other before easing into a discussion of his problems. He should have remembered that Vulcans don't bother with small talk. This guy went straight for the jugular.

"Commander Tucker?"

Still a bit rattled, Trip knew he had to say something. "I always try to do my best. But sometimes things just…happen."

"Can you accept the fact that you bear no personal responsibility when people on your ship are injured?"

Trip's hands balled into fists. "It's my job to keep the people on _Enterprise_ safe. When someone's hurt…" Trip stopped immediately when he heard the tremulous tone in his voice and tried to regroup. "When someone's hurt…or worse…it just means that I have to work harder. If I work harder, I can hold everything together."

Torok stared intently at the young human for a few moments then he continued. "I understand that our time together will be limited. You are scheduled to meet with representatives of the Vulcan government. Is that correct?"

Trip nodded. "I should be there now. I'm only here because T'Pol and I…" He suddenly clamped his mouth shut and dropped his head. He didn't want to bring the dissolution of his relationship with T'Pol into this.

"I am aware that you and Commander T'Pol came here to sever your bond. I was to officiate at the ceremony." Torok shifted slightly, settling into a more comfortable position on the bench. "As a rule, the other priests deal with such matters, but in this instance, they were not comfortable performing the ceremony. They found it…unsettling that a human was able to bond with a Vulcan."

Trip's head snapped up, and he stiffened. "There's nothing wrong with T'Pol and me wantin' to be together," he said hotly. "If people – Vulcan and human – would keep their noses out of our business, it would make our lives a whole lot easier."

"And yet you came to us to sever your bond," Torok continued logically. "That would seem to indicate that the two of you are not content to be together."

"Yeah…well…we changed our minds. T'Pol and I just need a little more time to work things out." Trip bit his lip guiltily. What ever possessed him to say that? He knew better than to lie to a priest…even a Vulcan priest. His mama would be ashamed of him. He couldn't deny that his pride had been hurt, but what if this only proved that he couldn't face the truth? He couldn't even admit to a perfect stranger that he'd failed in the most important relationship of his life.

Torok leaned back against the wall and looked appraisingly at Trip. "Your face betrays you, young man. It is obvious that you are not being completely honest with me." When Trip began to protest, he silenced the engineer with a wave of his hand. "If I am going to help you, there can be no lies or half-truths between us. I must know your thoughts. Since it is apparent that you intend to be evasive whenever we discuss topics that you find upsetting, I am left with no other option but to ask that you allow me to touch your mind."

Once again Trip shifted nervously. "You mean a mind meld?"

"Of course."

"Soval already did that. Isn't once enough?"

"Some things never change," Torok murmured as he arranged the sleeves of his robe. "Soval always was impulsive."

Tucker's eyes shot open. He'd called Soval many things over the years, but impulsive definitely wasn't one of them. Maybe he needed to reassess his opinion of the ambassador.

"What Soval may or may not know of your thoughts is of little concern to me," Torok continued. "If I cannot know your mind, I cannot help you."

"First Soval and now you," Tucker said defensively. "I thought you Vulcans didn't approve of mind melds. Are you a Syrrannite?"

"I am not a Syrrannite," Torok scoffed. "I simply do not allow other people to think for me. Mind melds are a part of Vulcan tradition, a part of the ancient ways. They serve a useful purpose, if used properly. As with all things, if they are abused, there can be negative consequences."

"I don't mean any disrespect, sir, but this is my mind we're talkin' about." Trip wrinkled his brow anxiously. "Are you sure you know what you're doin'?"

"I can assure you, young man, that you need not be concerned. I mastered the discipline almost two centuries ago. As a matter of fact, I was the one who taught the principles of mind melding to a young upstart named Soval. You seem to have suffered no ill effects from the joining of his mind with yours."

Trip had to admit that he'd walked away from his encounter with Soval with nothing more than a mild, short-lived headache. Of course, this time he would be conscious. He had to hope that that wouldn't make any difference.

"The decision is yours, Commander."

As much as he wanted to forget that he'd ever set foot on Mount Seleya, Trip knew that there was no turning back. He had to see this through to the end. Reluctantly, he nodded his assent then backed it up a moment later by wearily saying, "Okay. Let's do it."

Torok moved his cane out of the way and motioned toward the bench. "Come sit beside me. Soval tells me that the human mind is a chaotic place. This should prove to be an interesting experience."

Trip warily crossed the room and sat down on the bench next to Torok.

"Turn to face me."

Trip did as he was told. "What am I supposed to do?" he asked with a hint of trepidation in his voice.

"All I ask is that you relax and open your mind to me."

Tucker took a deep breath, held it then let it out slowly. "I guess I can do that."

"Let us begin." Torok raised his right hand to Trip's face and intoned, "My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts. Our minds are merging. Our minds are one." Torok adjusted his hand slightly on Tucker's face. "I feel what you feel. I know what you know."

At first, Trip only felt a gentle pressure in his mind, but that benign feeling was short-lived. Without warning, the pressure suddenly began to grow. Like the unrelenting current of a mighty river, it tore through his head. Trip tried to throw up mental barriers to protect himself, but the force systematically probed his thoughts, his feelings, his memories and then inexorably moved on.

When the force approached the compartments where he kept the great tragedies of his life hidden away, Trip decided to make one last, desperate stand. The force halted in the face of his resistance and for a few brief moments, the irresistible force and the determined human did battle. As the force battered against his defenses, the intense pressure became intolerable pain. Trip's breathing became more ragged as he fought to hold out, but in the end, one by one the compartments were breached.

Instantly, the memories began to play out in his mind. _Enterprise_ was being battered by the Xindi ships. He tried to block out the cries of the wounded and dying as he worked feverishly to hold the ship together. It was all so real. He could smell the smoke, see the blood spurting from Masaro's arm as the ensign lay writhing on the deck. Then the smoke was gone and he was in the ocean frantically diving over and over as he tried to locate his buddy, Vince, who'd cried out and disappeared beneath the waves. He saw the Xindi weapon bearing down on his unsuspecting sister. He screamed in desperation, but she couldn't hear his warnings. With a rush of wind it engulfed her and her body burst into flames. He saw his infant daughter take one last shuddering breath. He felt the weight of her limp, lifeless body as he picked her up and held her close. Numbly, he listened to the eulogy at the funeral, but it wasn't her body in the coffin, it was his. Then the lid was closed, sealing him inside, and the coffin was shot into space – cold and alone for eternity.

It was all too much. Too much pain…too much suffering…too many broken bodies and shattered dreams. As he was forced to relive one horrendous tragedy after another, great heaving sobs wracked Trip's body. He would give anything, even his own life, to save them, but there was nothing he could do.

Just when he thought he'd go insane, the memories stopped and the pressure slowly began to ease. Instead of chaos and misery there was only blessed silence. His breathing slowed, and he felt himself drifting away from the pain toward a deep black hole.

"Wake up, Mr. Tucker!" The words reverberated through every corner of Trip's brain and his eyes shot open.

Disoriented, he blinked a couple of times and then jerked backwards when he realized that there was a wizened Vulcan face only a few inches from his nose.

"Sit up now and take a few deep breaths," Torok said softly as he removed his hand from Trip's face. "You will need a few moments to recover."

Dazed and nauseous, Trip struggled to get to his feet. Using one hand to steady himself against the wall, he pressed the fingers of his other hand firmly against his forehead. The almost unbearable pain had not diminished. It felt as though someone was skewering his brain with a red hot poker. Everything in the room was slightly out of focus and strange white lights flashed across his field of vision.

"You must sit down, Commander, until you regain your equilibrium." Torok reached for Trip, but he pulled away.

"Don't touch me, you bastard," Trip hissed shakily, and then he felt his stomach turn over. Trip managed to stumble a few steps toward the corner of the room before he was violently sick. While he waited for the dry heaves to subside, he leaned against the wall, resting his throbbing head on the cool stone. Off in the distance, he heard voices calling his name. He wasn't surprised. The voices always found him. All dead. Nowhere to hide. So many dead. All his fault. Suddenly the voices began to grow louder and louder, crowding out all rational thought. He tried to block them out, but they all began to blur together into one cacophonous screech -- louder and louder and louder until darkness swallowed him whole and there was nothing left but silence.

- - - - - - - - - -

Trip's first conscious thought was that the voices were gone. So were the intense pain and the nausea. When he felt something cool and wet touch his forehead, he slowly opened his eyes.

"The young man seems to be recovering." Torok looked up at the stern-looking Vulcan who stood stiffly beside his chair. "We will no longer need your services, Doctor. You may return to your duties."

Frowning, the other Vulcan nodded. "This human has not been permanently damaged, but he should rest. He does not have our strength or stamina."

Tucker watched in silence as the doctor glared at him one last time before leaving the room. When Trip raised one hand to touch the damp cloth on his forehead, he noticed that his grey robe was gone. His hand dropped to his neck. Someone had loosened the collar of his suit jacket. Slowly, he turned his head and saw Torok watching him.

"Did I throw up on your floor?" Trip asked in a hushed voice.

"Yes, young man."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean…."

"Do not let it concern you. These things happen."

Trip sat up slowly and leaned forward. Resting his elbows on his thighs, he scrubbed his hands shakily over his face. It didn't taken him long to realize that while he felt better physically, the emotional trauma from the meld had not abated. Too many old wounds had been ripped open and allowed to bleed freely. He could feel the anguish and remorse welling up inside of him, choking him. He tried to build new walls to lock the pain away again, but nothing seemed to work. For one terrible moment, fear gripped him. What if he could no longer protect himself when tragedy stuck? How would he survive?

"I did not want to cause you pain," Torok said sincerely, "but you fought me every step of the way."

Trip lowered his hands. Tears no longer rolled down his cheeks, but his faced was still etched by unbearable pain. "I know you didn't mean to hurt me," he managed to choke out, "but why did you make me see…make me relive those…terrible, terrible memories. I've worked so hard to…"

The conversation came to an abrupt halt when a young Vulcan attendant entered and handed Torok a large glass. He immediately nodded, dismissing her. Returning his nod, she quickly turned and left the room.

"Would you like some water, Commander? I imagine that your ordeal has made you thirsty." Torok handed the glass to Tucker.

"Thanks," Tucker mumbled. He raised the glass to his lips and drank.

"I spoke to T'Pol while you were unconscious," Torok said. "She was concerned that I might have injured you. It took some effort on my part, but I believe I finally set her mind at ease."

"T'Pol takes her job as first officer very seriously," Tucker answered tightly. He leaned over and set the glass on the floor. "She's always lookin' out for the crew."

"Her concern seemed to be motivated by more than duty," Torok said quietly. "But then you obviously know her better than I do."

Tucker gripped one tightly balled fist with his other hand. _Yeah, I know her_, he thought. _I know her too well_. In his mind, he could see her face so clearly. He could almost feel the warmth…the softness of her skin beneath his finger tips. He could hear her call his name…as she rejected him once again. Trip couldn't stop himself from flinching slightly. _This has to stop_, he scolded himself. _I have to accept that my relationship with T'Pol is over. It's over_!

"Are you still unwell, young man?" Torok asked, breaking into Tucker's thoughts. "Would you like me to send for the doctor again?"

"No. I'm fine." Tucker sniffed and straightened his back. No matter how bad he felt, he was determined not to let it show. A Vulcan would not appreciate his emotionalism, and he knew that he did not want to appear weak in front of this man. He had to pull himself together. "Now that you've poked around in my brain," he finally murmured, "I suppose you think you've got me all figured out."

"Soval warned me about the unpredictability of the human mind, and he was, of course, quite correct," Torok said. "Your mind is an incredibly tempestuous place. At first glance, I was only aware of the rampant emotionalism and disorder, but, surprisingly, beneath it all, you possess a solid foundation of logic and discipline. I could spend many months trying to analyze your thought processes, but that is not why you are here."

The high priest picked up his cane, planted one end firmly on the floor and rested both hands on the gnarled knob. "You are searching for a way to free yourself from the dark thoughts that are slowly destroying your katra. I will do all that is within my power to assist you, but, in the final analysis, you must find a way to help yourself, young man."

Torok looked sternly at Tucker. "You have a brilliant mind and yet there are some truths you refuse to accept. Why do you find it so easy to help a friend who has suffered a loss, and yet you refuse to deal with your own grief? You cannot hide from emotional pain by burying your feelings deep in the recesses of your mind."

"I deal with my problems," Trip responded defensively. "Sometimes it just takes me awhile to get the job done. I came to grips with Lizzie's death while we were in the Expanse. Ask T'Pol. She was there."

"Do not forget that I have seen your thoughts, Commander. I know that your sister's death still haunts you. You may have said good-bye to her, but you have never really let her go."

"How can I? She was my sister," Trip said pleadingly.

"I know it will be difficult, but it is something that you must do, both to preserve her memory and to restore your own peace of mind. By constantly denying your feelings, you have chosen to walk a dangerous path. Can't you see that your constant struggle to keep your painful memories locked away only increases your vulnerability? It only takes one unguarded moment for everything to come rushing back, and once again you are bereft."

Torok paused. His forehead wrinkled as though he was trying to solve some weighty problem. "You are consumed by guilt, young man, and I do not understand why. You bear some responsibility for the death of the cogenitor, but the other losses you have suffered are not of your making."

"You don't understand," Trip whispered. He rose and walked across the room.

"I would like to understand. Perhaps you can explain it to me."

Trip looked back over his shoulder then dropped his head. He knew he couldn't avoid talking about the deaths that haunted his dreams, but it didn't make it any easier.

"Come back and sit down," Torok said.

Trip was somewhat surprised by the sympathetic tone in the priest's voice. He hadn't expected that from a Vulcan of Torok's age or station in life.

"I want to see your face when you speak to me, young man."

"You don't have to do this, sir," Trip said softly. "I know it's an imposition. I can work things out for myself."

"Vulcans do not turn away from people in need. Now sit down and explain to me why you have allowed grief and guilt to take control of your life."

A shudder passed through Trip's body. Thoroughly defeated, he walked over and sank gracelessly down on the bench. "I know I haven't done a good job of handling my grief, but it doesn't control me," he said shakily. "When we were in the Expanse, I didn't have time to sit in my room and mourn for Lizzie, or Crewmen Taylor or any of the others. People depended on me to keep the ship running, and I did my job."

"And in order to do that you had to ignore your own well-being? Going without food or sleep does not increase your productivity."

Trip leaned back and rested his exhausted body against the wall. "I've had a problem with insomnia since I was a kid. As for food...well…sometimes I get busy with repairs, and I just forget to eat. There's nothing wrong with that."

Suddenly Trip bristled and his eyes flashed with anger. "Now wait just a minute! If you've got some half-baked idea that I'm self-destructive, you can think again! I want to live as much as anybody else!"

"And yet you neglect your health."

"I'm not all that fragile, ya know. I've gone without sleep before and I'll probably do it again. Sometimes it's necessary."

"Do you know what causes your insomnia?"

"Not really," Trip said as he nervously ran his fingers through his hair. "It seems like I've always had trouble sleepin'. My mama thinks it's because my mind's always goin' a mile a minute."

"You don't believe that?"

Trip shrugged. "There may be some truth in it. I think it's mainly because of the dreams."

"Dreams?"

"Yeah. Not dreams really, but nightmares. Even as a kid I always figured there were monsters under my bed. T'Pol really saved my life…helpin' me with the Vulcan neuropressure the way she did. An hour spent with her, and I'd sleep straight through the night." Tucker ducked his head. "I owe her a lot."

"Why do you feel responsible for the death of your child?"

Caught off guard, Trip leaned forward and gripped the edge of the bench tightly with both hands. He gritted his teeth as a wave of grief threatened to overwhelm him. In his mind, he once again saw the beautiful little baby, so like her mother with her delicate pointed ears.

Trip took a moment more to compose himself then murmured, "I wasn't there for her when she needed me." He lifted his eyes and looked at Torok beseechingly. "Don't you see? If I could have gotten to her sooner, Doctor Phlox might have been able to save her."

"You do not believe that, young man," Torok said softly. "You know that the child was doomed from before her birth."

"No!" Trip shook his head adamantly. "I know we could have found a way to save her. T'Pol and I could have worked with Phlox. If I had just worked harder…" Trip dropped his head and a sob caught in his throat. He was her father. It was his duty to care for her.

"You must accept that you are blameless in her death, and let her go."

"She's my daughter," Trip choked out. "I can't let her go."

"Of course you can. She was an innocent child and yet you allow her memory to poison your spirit. Doesn't she deserve more from you?"

Trip brushed his hand across his cheeks to wipe away the tears. "I guess so."

"You will always cherish her, but cherish her for what she was, not for what she could never be. You are blameless in this. Is that so hard to accept?"

"Yes," Trip answered in a hushed voice. "She was my future and I let her slip away." He took a deep breath and tried to explain. "When I saw Elizabeth for the first time, I knew she was everything I had ever wanted. With the baby alive and well, T'Pol and I could have built a life together. We could have been happy. But then Elizabeth died." Trip raised a trembling hand to his head and pressed his fingers against his temple. "After awhile, there seemed to be nothing left for us, and I lost T'Pol, too." He looked over at Torok with anguished eyes. "You've seen my thoughts. You know how much I care for both of them. How do I fill the hole in my life?"

"I cannot answer that. You and T'Pol must find your own way. It may be together. Then again, you may choose separate paths. We cannot compel others to care for us, just as we cannot prolong the lives of those whose time has come."

"I know," Trip said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"You must accept that you bear no guilt for the death of your sister or your fellow crewmen." Torok looked intently at Tucker. "You must accept that your child died because of the malevolence of others and not through any fault of your own."

Trip shook his head wearily. "I understand what you're tellin' me, but…"

"But?"

"They trusted me. Even when I was right there, I couldn't stop it from happenin'. I should have been able to do somethin'…"

"The power over life and death does not rest in your hands, young man" Torok said firmly. "Until you can learn to grieve and ultimately accept the losses that come to each of us as we age, you will never find peace. Are you willing to sacrifice your career and live out the remainder of your life as a martyr to your lost friends and relatives?"

"You don't understand," Tucker cried in a tortured voice.

"Then make me understand!" Torok's voice reverberated throughout the chamber.

"I don't know how." Totally spent, Trip dropped his head and covered his face with his hands.

Torok thumped his cane once on the floor and then slowly got to his feet. "That is enough for today."

Trip sniffed and dropped his hands. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to waste your time. If somebody would bring me my uniform, I'll be on my way."

"I would like you to stay with us for awhile longer," Torok said softly. "I will send someone to show you to a room for the night."

"That really isn't necessary, sir. I've already taken up too much of your time."

"Nonsense. We will talk again tomorrow, after you have rested. If you are unable to sleep, young man, please feel free to call upon our physician. He will see to your needs." Before Tucker could protest further, Torok turned and walked slowly out of the chamber.

TBC


	22. Chapter 22

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

I would also like to thank everyone who has read the chapters I've posted. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review them.

CHAPTER 22: ARCHER

In spite of himself, Jonathan Archer had begun the day full of hope. His efforts to build the Coalition were finally paying dividends. The Vulcans had asked humans to sit down and meet with them as equals – not as ignorant lackeys, unruly students, or naive interlopers, but equals. This morning he had fervently wished that his Dad could have been here to see this historic moment. Now he wasn't so sure.

Archer sighed and shook his head as he looked out of the side viewport of the Vulcan shuttle. Instead of feeling optimistic at the end of the first day, he had come away with a cold dose of reality. He realized that these strategic talks could go a long way toward redefining Earth's relationship with Vulcan and effectively ending what had amounted to a regency period for Earth. Evidently the Vulcans understood this as well, and some of them were clearly not ready to relinquish control.

The primary opposition to this attempt to develop a joint security plan for the region came from Admiral Kiran, his protégé Captain V'Lin of the Vulcan ship _Tar'hana_, and Ministers T'Lan and Sulin – all hard-line Vulcan conservatives. Of the four, Kiran was by far the most dangerous. He had made it clear from his first look at Archer that he thought all humans were beneath his contempt. Every effort Jon had made to find some common ground with the Vulcans had been derailed by one of Kiran's acerbic comments.

Archer knew that he had the support of T'Pau, Soval and Minister Kuvak. Ambassador V'Lar was a reasonable woman. When she arrived, she would probably speak in favor of the humans. Nevertheless, Jon wasn't sure if the four of them were strong enough to sway the others. Admiral Kiran was the key. Without his support, these talks were doomed to failure, as was any unified effort to fight against the growing Romulan threat in the region. If he could find a way to sway Kiran, he knew the others would probably fall into line. Now all he had to do was figure out how to reason with a mean-spirited Vulcan bigot.

"We will be arriving at Mount Seleya in one minute and twenty seconds," the stony-faced Vulcan pilot informed Archer. "I have contacted the priests at the Sanctuary to inform them of your arrival."

"Thank you," Archer said as he shifted uneasily in his seat. He was more than happy that this little jaunt was about to come to an end. It was painfully obvious that Vulcan shuttles hadn't been designed for personal comfort.

"Ambassador Soval is also visiting the Sanctuary," the pilot continued. "He asks to speak with you immediately upon your arrival."

"Good," Archer said firmly. "Maybe he can tell me what happened to my officers."

As the shuttle sped through the mountain passes on its final approach to Mount Seleya, Archer rose and looked out the front viewport. Within seconds, he caught his first glimpse of the Sanctuary, an imposing structure carved many centuries ago into one side of the sacred mountain. "Well," he murmured under his breath as they drew closer, "at least I found my shuttlepod." When the shuttle banked to the left and began to descend, Archer returned to his seat.

He still wasn't sure why he'd felt it was important to make this journey, but somehow he knew that it was. Maybe it was the mysterious way Soval had spirited Trip and T'Pol away from the meeting that morning. Maybe it was T'Pol's insistence that they were only doing some vague research project. Or maybe it was the nagging feeling that Trip was in trouble.

The Vulcan shuttle landed smoothly and came to a halt about twenty feet from Shuttlepod One. By the time Archer got to his feet, the pilot had the hatch open for him.

"Please pass along my thanks to Minister Kuvak for the use of the shuttle," Archer said as he approached the exit.

"It is not necessary, but I will pass along your sentiments." Archer stepped out of the shuttle, but came to a halt when the pilot added, "I will be here when you are ready to leave, Captain."

"That won't be necessary," Archer assured the pilot. "I can use the shuttlepod from _Enterprise_."

"Minister Kuvak told me to wait. I will follow his instructions."

"Suit yourself," Archer grumbled. Then he turned and headed up the flight of steps. He could see Soval and T'Pol standing at the top, waiting for him.

When Archer reached the head of the stairs, Soval said in a rather guarded tone of voice, "Your visit is unexpected, Captain. What brings you here?"

"I'm looking for my first officer and my chief engineer."

"It is obvious that you have found them," Soval replied.

Jon looked pointedly at T'Pol. "I could have used their help today, Commander," he said a little more forcefully than he intended. He immediately turned his attention to Soval. "I could have used your help, too, Ambassador. By taking off, you both left me swinging in the wind."

Soval's eyebrow rose. "I take it things did not go well."

"You could say that."

"I would imagine that Admiral Kiran expressed his…reservations at working hand in hand with humans." Soval led Archer across the landing…through the left doorway into the Sanctuary…and into a small nondescript chamber. T'Pol followed quietly several steps behind the two men.

When they entered the room, Soval motioned the captain to one of the stone benches that lined the walls. _Great_, Archer thought. _Don't Vulcans_ _believe in cushions_?

Jon sank down onto the bench and leaned back wearily against the wall. "If Kiran had his way, all humans would go back to being shepherds."

"That is an accurate assessment," Soval said with a trace of weariness in his voice. "The admiral can be a difficult, when he wants to be." He and T'Pol seated themselves on the bench directly across from Archer.

"So…would somebody like to tell me about this research you're conducting?" Archer looked from one Vulcan to the other. "What could be so important that it takes priority over a discussion of security in this region of space? And where's Trip?"

"Commander Tucker is resting," Soval said firmly. T'Pol shifted uneasily, but remained silent. "As for the research…"

"Resting?" Archer asked bewilderedly. "What's the matter with him? Is he sick?"

"He has had a tiring day."

"Doing what? And don't tell me research."

"He recalled some memories from his past," Soval explained, "and he found them…distressing."

"Memories from his past?" Archer was starting to lose his temper. He'd been getting the run-around from Vulcans all day, and his patience was wearing thin. "I have no idea what you're talking about, but I want to see Trip, and I want to see him right now."

"I do not think that would be wise," Soval said quietly.

Archer was on his feet in an instant. "I want to know what's going on!" he barked angrily. "I let Trip walk out of that conference room with two Vulcans, and the next thing I know he's being spirited away to some religious sanctuary!"

"Captain, please," Soval said in a calm reassuring voice. "Surely you know that we would not harm Commander Tucker."

Archer turned toward the wall as he struggled to compose himself. After a few moments he resumed his seat and muttered, "This has been one hell of a day." Taking a deep breath, he scrubbed a hand over his face and then focused his attention once again on Soval. "I'm sorry" Jon said sincerely. "That was uncalled for. I know you would never hurt Trip. Please accept my apology… both of you."

"Your apology is accepted, Captain," Soval replied. "And you are correct. We do owe you an explanation." He looked over at T'Pol. Nodding, she rose silently, crossed the room and sat down next to Archer.

"Commander Tucker and I were faced with a problem that could not be resolved on _Enterprise_," she began. "Ambassador Soval suggested that one of the priests at the Sanctuary could be of help to us."

"And Trip agreed to this?"

"Yes. When the commander realized that anything said here would be kept in confidence, he decided that this was an opportune time to discuss some of the personal matters that have been troubling him." T'Pol hesitated. "Starfleet would never need to know."

Archer took a moment to let T'Pol's words sink in. Suddenly things were beginning to make sense. "Look, I think I understand what you're saying. And I'm glad Trip is finally getting some help, but I still want to see him."

Soval started to protest, but Archer cut him off. "I want to see him now."

"As you wish." T'Pol rose and started toward the doorway. "Please come with me, Captain."

- - - - - - - - - -

Archer paused at the doorway to Trip's room. Much of the chamber was in darkness. He could make out a bed placed against the wall to the left. There was a small table and two chairs at the center of the room and little else, except for a meditation mat on the floor at the right. Several tall, freestanding candelabra were placed strategically around the room, but only two of the candles were lit. "Trip?" he called anxiously, but there was no response. He took a few cautious steps into the room and looked around. "Trip, are you in here?" He was just about ready to head back out into the corridor to find T'Pol when he noticed a hunched figure seated on the floor at the back of the room.

Concerned, Jon walked over and knelt by his friend. He'd known Trip for over a decade, but he'd never seen him behave like this. Even when he was distressed, the young engineer had always found solace in work, not hiding alone in the dark. Archer hesitated, his hand suspended in mid air. Finally, he reached over and lightly grasped Tucker's shoulder. "Trip, are you all right?"

"Go away and leave me alone," Tucker growled.

"You don't mean that," Archer said quietly. He threw a quick glance around the chamber. He couldn't assess his friend's condition under these conditions. After giving Trip's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, he stood up and walked across the room. "I think we could use a little more light." He quickly lit the additional candles from the flames of their two brethren and then returned to his friend.

Tucker, dressed only in his blue Starfleet underwear, looked as if he was trying to curl himself into a tight little ball: head bowed, arms wrapped around legs drawn up close to his chest. Without raising his head, he murmured, "Captain, I'm askin' ya to leave. I need to be alone right now."

This was not what Archer had expected to hear. More concerned than ever for his friend's safety, he sat on the floor facing Tucker. When Trip decided to raise his head, Jon wanted to be able to see his face. "If you won't tell me what's wrong, would you at least let me get Phlox down here to make sure you're okay?"

"I don't need to see Phlox."

'Well, you need to see someone. This isn't like you."

"Get out an' leave me in peace."

"Trip, I'm worried about you. I just want…"

"I said, no!" Trip exploded. In one quick, lithe movement, he got to his feet and moved away from Archer. "Just leave me alone!"

Startled by the vehemence of his friend's outburst, Archer snapped, "What in the hell is the matter with you?"

Tucker stood silently glaring down at him, fists clenched and jaw muscles working furiously. Scrambling to his feet, Archer was completely at a loss. This was not the same man who'd left _Enterprise_ this morning. What in the hell had these people done to him?

"Did the Vulcans hurt you? Because if that's what happened, I…"

"You never listen!" Trip shouted furiously. "Get out! I don't need you and I don't need Phlox!"

Sensing that the situation was getting out of control, Archer took a couple of steps toward Trip. He held out his hands appeasingly. "You need to calm down now. Just let me…" Tucker's fist lashed out, slamming into Archer's jaw. Stunned by the blow, the captain staggered, but managed to stay on his feet. Before he could raise his hands to protect himself, Trip sent a violent blow to his mid-section. Jon doubled over and another fist crashed relentlessly into the side of his face. Archer was just conscious enough to realize that he was falling. There was a moment of pain as his body struck the floor, and then nothing.

- - - - - - - - - -

Jon groaned and rolled over onto his side. For a moment he didn't remember where he was or why he was on the floor, but then the image of Trip's fist heading toward his face flashed into his mind and everything came back to him. Slowly pushing himself into a sitting position, he shook his head, trying to clear away the fog, but the pain only made him wince. Squinting slightly, he looked around the room.

Trip was sitting in the same place Archer had first seen him. His back was once again up against the wall with his legs drawn up to his chest, only this time he was staring straight at the captain. He appeared to be less agitated, but the misery he felt was clearly written across his tear-stained face.

"You pack quite a punch," Archer said quietly as he felt his jaw. His tongue briefly explored the inside of his mouth, checking for damage. "I think you chipped a tooth," he mumbled as his tongue moved back and forth over a rough place on one of his incisors. He shifted slightly to find a more comfortable position. "Do you want to tell me what that was all about?"

"Go ahead and court martial me," Trip said shakily. "I don't care." Sniffing, he turned his head away from Archer.

Cautiously Jon scooted a little closer to his friend. "I don't want to court martial you, Trip," he said sadly. "I just want to help you. Why won't you let me?"

"I told you I wanted to be left alone."

"You warned me, and I didn't pay attention. I'm sorry about that. But you have to know that there's no way I'm leaving you in this condition. You need help, Trip."

"I'm gettin' help."

"From the Vulcans?"

"Yeah, from the Vulcans," Trip's head snapped around and anger blazed again in his eyes.

Jon raised one hand, palm forward, in an attempt to pacify his friend. "Okay. I'm glad they're helping you, but it's pretty clear that something's bothering you. Do you want to talk about it? I'm always ready to listen."

"You don't want to hear what I've got to say," Trip answered tightly, "so why don't you just go back to _Enterprise_?"

"I don't think so." Archer looked closely at the commander. He didn't want to misjudge the situation again. "You're obviously mad at me, but I don't know why."

Tucker sniffed and rubbed one hand angrily across his face, wiping away the tears.

"Whatever it is, we might as well have it out right now." Jon pressed his lips together. He didn't know what was going through his friend's mind, but he was under no illusions that the next few minutes were going to be anything but unpleasant.

Trip's eyes were riveted on Jon's face. His right hand clenched and unclenched as he apparently fought to control himself. Just when Archer was ready to give up on getting his stubborn friend to talk, Trip whispered, "Do you know what it's like to see yourself lyin' dead in a coffin?"

Archer caught his breath and sat perfectly still. He'd lived in fear of this moment for almost two years. He knew he should have discussed Sim's life and death with Trip while they were in the Expanse, but he could never bring himself to do it. From the moment the casket was shot out into space, he'd never even uttered Sim's name. The guilt was still too overpowering. He should have realized that the event would be even more traumatic for Trip.

"I just stood there, lookin' down at him," Trip continued in an anguished voice. "I knew I was still breathin', but how could I deny that that was me in that casket?"

"Trip, please…"

"After the funeral, nobody would talk about him. It was like he never existed. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore, and I broke into Phlox's medical logs. That told me everything I needed to know." Tucker stuck out his chin defiantly. "You took a part of me, made a copy, and then you threw him away!"

"That's not the way it happened," Archer shot back.

"The hell it wasn't!" Trip shouted. "After the funeral, people came up to me and told me they were glad that I was feelin' better, but I could tell that things had changed. They all knew Sim – watched him grow up. And then just like that, he's gone and I'm all that's left. I'm surprised they didn't start callin' me Lazarus. After all, it's not every day ya get to see someone rise from the dead. It's just too damn bad that Sim had to face the executioner to make it happen!"

"That's enough!" Archer roared as he jumped to his feet. "I'm still your commanding officer, mister. I expect you to show me the proper respect."

"Fine!" For a few tense moments, Tucker glared at Archer. Finally, he looked away. "Whatever you say. You're the boss."

"Damn it," Archer muttered under his breath. Bringing his right hand up to his temple, he took several deep breaths. He knew better than to lose his temper. Trip had every right to be angry. Jon knew that if he was going to make things right with his friend, he was going to have to get himself under control, and fast, because he probably wasn't going to get a second chance. "I'm sorry, Trip," he said sincerely. "I know I let you down. Please let me explain."

Tucker kept his face averted. He appeared to be calmer, but Archer could tell that the anger that had raged through him a moment ago was waiting just below the surface, ready to explode again. "Why did you do it?" Tucker finally asked plaintively. "I never wanted anyone to die for me. Why couldn't you just let me go?"

Archer walked over to Trip. Cautiously, he sat down beside his friend and put an arm around his shoulders. "Trip," he said in a soft, but firm voice, "I want you to listen to me." Tucker tried to pull away, but Jon held on tightly. "When you were injured in that explosion and Doctor Phlox told me that you might not live, I felt as though a ten-story building had come crashing down on me. We had to stop the Xindi weapon, and in order to do that, I needed you alive. Phlox told me about the mimetic symbiot, and I jumped at the chance."

"You had no right," Trip choked out.

"I had no choice," Archer shot back. "When Sim devised a way to move _Enterprise_ out of that polaric field, I knew I'd made the right decision – the only decision. Your memories enabled him to do that. Without you, _Enterprise _would have been destroyed. Earth would have been destroyed. Don't you understand how important you were to the mission?" Archer squeezed Trip's shoulder. "Don't you understand how important you are to me…to your family and friends…to Starfleet? So many people depend on you."

"No!" Trip shouted. When he couldn't break out of Archer's grasp, Tucker threw an elbow into Jon's ribcage. Surprised, Archer loosened his grip and Tucker scrambled to his feet. "Nothing can justify what you did! Sim wanted to live! He'd fight for his life just like I would!"

"You're right," Archer said as he rubbed his side. "Sim did want to live, but he knew he only had a lifespan of fifteen days. There was no proven treatment that could have prolonged his life. Sim finally accepted that if the operation was delayed, you would both die. He gave his life so that what happened to Lizzie wouldn't happen to anybody else."

"Phlox should have tried. There should have been something..."

"There was nothing anybody could have done. Phlox loved Sim like his own son. Believe me, he would have saved him if there had been a way. Phlox performed the operation because he realized that it had to be done."

"How could you just stand by and watched him die?" Trip asked in an anguished voice.

Archer rubbed a trembling hand across his brow. Put into words, it sounded so cold. Did Trip really believe that he was some kind of monster? He was just an ordinary man who had been placed, by circumstances, in an impossible position. Yes, he'd stood by while another sentient being died, but it had to be done. He had to find a way to explain that to Trip? He had to make him understand or Sim's death would always stand between them. He valued Trip's friendship too much for that.

"Trip, do you have any idea how hard it was for me to watch Phlox press that hypospray to Sim's neck, knowing that he'd never wake up again?" Archer asked in a strained voice. "I watched him grow up, too. Every day he looked and sounded more like you. There were times when I had to slip into sickbay just to remind myself that you and Sim were two completely different men."

Jon swallowed hard as he fought to push from his mind the image of Sim lying down on the biobed for the last time. It was a memory that still haunted him late at night, when he was most defenseless. "A part of me wanted to rip the scalpel out of the doctor's hand, but I knew I couldn't do it. I stayed through the entire operation. I owed Sim that much, and a great deal more. Phlox did everything he could to keep him alive, but the surgery was just too much for him. When he took his last breath, it was like watching you die." Archer paused momentarily, pressing an unsteady hand against his mouth. "Sim was dead, but you were alive, Trip. Don't you see? We had to do it. It was the only way we could save you."

Distraught, Trip turned away. "How am I supposed to live with this? He died because of me."

Archer got to his feet and walked over to stand in front of his friend. Gently grabbing both of Trip's arms, he said, "None of this was your fault. Blame me. Heaven knows, I blame myself. You did nothing wrong."

"I wish I could believe you."

"You can, but you have to try."

"If I hadn't gotten hurt…"

"You got hurt because you were doing your job. If you hadn't shut down the warp reactor, _Enterprise_ could have been destroyed." Trip only shook his head. When he tried to pull away, Archer tightened his grip. "Remember, Sim didn't die just for you. He died to keep everyone on Earth safe. But then that didn't exactly come as a big surprise to me. I've known only two truly brave and selfless men in my life. One of them was Sim. The other is you, Trip."

"Don't say that." Tucker spoke in an anguished voice, barely above a whisper. "Sim was brave, not me."

"You ought to know by now, Commander, that it's not a good idea to argue with your captain," Archer countered as he gave his friend a gentle shake. He searched Trip's face, desperately trying to gauge if his words were hitting home. Never in his life had Jon felt so helpless. Trip was coming unraveled right before his eyes, and he was partly to blame. What if he couldn't make things right again?

Tucker covered his face with his hands, and then slowly pulled his fingers back through his hair. "It's all too much. I can't…"

"You're exhausted," Archer said gently. "I know it's still early, but why don't you try and get a little sleep? Maybe things will make more sense in the morning." Slowly, Archer turned his chief engineer around and headed him toward the bed. The bounce in Trip's step was gone; he moved sluggishly, like a beaten, broken man. A deep blue suit lay discarded on the bed. A portion of Archer's mind registered surprise that the only garment in the room wasn't Trip's uniform, but that thought was quickly pushed aside as he scooped up the jacket and pants and deposited them on the table in the center of the room. Moving back to the bed, he raised the covers and Trip crawled in.

When he was settled, Tucker cast a guilty look at Jon. "I'm sorry I hit you."

"I know you are, buddy," Archer said, cautiously sitting down on the bed next to Trip. He tried to smile, but his heart wasn't in it.

"You didn't deserve that."

"I'm not so sure. Maybe I did. Trip, I want you to promise me that the next time something is bothering you, you'll come and see me so that we can talk it out."

Trip scrubbed a hand wearily over his face. "Okay."

Archer took a moment to gather his courage before continuing. "I'm hoping that you can find it in your heart to forgive me for giving the order to create Sim. I didn't know what else to do. God help me, if I had it to do all over again, I'd do the same thing. You had to live, Trip. I couldn't lose you."

There was surprisingly little emotion in the blue eyes that stared back at him. It was as if all of Trip's anger and guilt had finally consumed him from the inside out, leaving nothing but an empty shell. "I understand why you did what you did. In your shoes, I might have done the same thing. But don't ask me to forgive you. Not now. I can't do it."

Archer felt his heart constrict. "That's fair enough," he said quietly. "Are you going to need some help sleeping?" Jon looked over toward the doorway. "They probably have a doctor somewhere around here."

"Yeah, it probably wouldn't hurt."

Jon stood up and looked down at his friend. "If I can't find a doctor, I'll have Phlox send something down," he said, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. "Get some rest."

Without responding, Tucker rolled over and buried his face in the pillow.

Dejectedly, Archer retraced his steps, extinguishing all but two of the candles. Then he turned and left the room. He looked down the corridor and saw T'Pol waiting for him. When he reached her, she fell into step beside him, and the two officers walked down the hall side by side.

"You are injured," T'Pol said quietly.

Archer gingerly touched his swollen lip. "It's nothing."

"Your eye is beginning to discolor."

"Damn," Archer mumbled, carefully fingering the slightly swollen flesh below his left eye. "Maybe Phlox can do something about this before the meeting tomorrow. It's going to be hard enough to convince the Vulcans to take us seriously. I can't afford to show up looking like I've been in a bar fight."

"I take it that your meeting with Mr. Tucker did not go well."

"I'd say that that was a major understatement." Archer dropped his hand wearily to his side. Whatever small reserve of energy he'd had after the meetings with the Vulcans was now completely spent. "Trip took exception to a decision I made in the Expanse."

"I see." T'Pol pressed her lips together. It was obvious that she was as upset about Trip's condition as he was. "Are you referring to Sim?"

"Yeah." The captain pulled up. Reaching out, he lightly grasped T'Pol's arm, bringing her to a halt as well. "I know I should have talked to Trip about Sim a long time ago," Archer said ruefully. "Trip does such a thorough job of masking his feelings that it's easy to overlook just how upset he really is about some things."

"It would have been wise to discuss the matter with Commander Tucker," T'Pol answered, "but you did have a great many other things on your mind. Perhaps now that the subject has been broached, both of you can finally put aside the guilt you feel and honor Sim's memory."

"I guess you're right. Besides, a black eye is a small price to pay if this will help ease Trip's mind." Once again, Jon lightly touched the tender area just below his eye. "Actually, Trip surprised me. I didn't think he could hit that hard. He must be spending some extra time in the gym."

"I'm sure the commander regrets striking you," T'Pol said softly. "He has had a difficult day."

"I know Trip didn't mean to hurt me," Jon said wearily. "The pressure's been building between us for a long time. I'm glad we finally got things out in the open." His eyes wandered back to the room where his chief engineer lay. "What's being done to help him, T'Pol?"

T'Pol followed his gaze, and then quickly looked away. "Commander Tucker spent some time today speaking with Torok, the High Priest. Torok has counseled many people over the years."

"All Vulcan?"

"Yes," T'Pol conceded.

Archer frowned. "Do you really think that he's the best person to talk to Trip? Does this priest have even a basic understanding of how humans think, how we feel? Trip needs someone who can empathize with him – get him to open up. He doesn't need to be told that he has to control his emotions. He's kept things bottled up far too long as it is."

"I believe that you are underestimating Torok, Captain. He may be a Vulcan, but he is very wise. I have spoken with him myself." Archer squinted slightly as he concentrated on what T'Pol was saying. "My marriage to Koss was…sudden. It left me uncertain about the direction my life was taking, so, immediately after the wedding, I made the decision to journey to Mount Seleya to meditate. While I was here, I asked for an audience with the High Priest, and it was granted. It was most unexpected."

"Unexpected? I thought you said that this priest counseled many people. Doesn't he see everybody?"

"Torok is very selective about whom he sees."

"But he's willing to see Trip – a human?"

"Yes. Perhaps he is able to see the same positive attributes in Commander Tucker that you and I see. Whatever his reasoning, I believe that Torok only wants what is best for Mr. Tucker."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," she said confidently. "I drew comfort from Torok's words. He helped me put things in perspective. But you must understand, Captain, that this will not be easy for the commander. As you say, he has kept his feelings bottled up for far too long. Today, he was forced to confront some painful memories he'd hidden away – hence his anger with you over Sim."

The captain nodded his understanding. "Okay, T'Pol. I hope you're right."

As his anxiety level began to mount, Archer felt the need to move. He turned abruptly and headed down the corridor again with his first officer by his side. "Trip's slipping away from us, T'Pol, and I don't know how to stop it. If he can't pull himself together, and fast, I'm going to have to transfer him back to Earth. He's the best there is, but I need a chief engineer I can rely on. I'm not sure Trip's that man anymore."

"Do not give up on Commander Tucker just yet," T'Pol said.

"Why did this have to happen now? There's so much at stake. I need you and Trip at your best if we're going to make these meetings with the Vulcans work. I was counting on…" Archer suddenly clamped his mouth shut and shook his head. This was getting him nowhere. He balled his hands into fists as he fought against a growing sense of hopelessness.

"I have to get back, T'Pol. Admiral Gardner wasn't too happy that I left when I did. I'll swing by _Enterprise_ and see if Phlox can do something about my eye." Archer made his way out to the landing. When he reached the head of the stairs leading down to the shuttle, he paused and looked over at his first officer. "I managed to get Trip to lie down, but I doubt that he'll get much sleep without some help. Is there a doctor here or should I get Phlox to send down a sedative?"

"There is a physician here. I will see that he visits the commander."

"Thank you, T'Pol. Whatever happens – good or bad – keep me informed."

"Yes, sir. Rest assured that I will join you when Ambassador V'Lar reaches Vulcan in three days. I will bring Mr. Tucker along with me if he is well enough to participate in the talks. Try not to worry."

Archer tried to smile, but it was a weak effort at best. He knew T'Pol was only trying to be optimistic for his benefit. As much as he'd like to believe otherwise, Jon knew that it would take Trip more than three days to pull himself together. He'd just have to manage without him.

"Take good care of him, T'Pol."

With a tired wave of his hand, Archer started down the staircase, but as he descended, his pace slowed. Finally, he halted. He knew that his decision to create Sim would haunt him for the rest of his life. But his peace of mind was a small price to pay for saving Trip's life. Without turning around, he confessed, "I've never regretted saving him, T'Pol. Not for a single minute." With that said, he continued down the stairs and into the waiting shuttle.

Without uttering a word of greeting, the pilot closed the hatch and proceeded to get underway.

"I'd like to make a brief stop at _Enterprise_ before returning to the conference," Archer said, making an effort to keep the fatigue out of his voice.

"As you wish," the pilot replied neutrally.

Archer leaned back, resigned to the fact that he would never be able to get comfortable on the shuttle's rigid seats. He had to hope that tomorrow would be better, because he couldn't take too many more days like today. Sighing deeply, he turned his head and gazed disinterestedly out of the viewport.

If the talks with the Vulcans fell apart, he would feel a sense of personal failure, but he'd get over it. He knew he wouldn't recover so quickly from being forced to relieve Trip of his duties. How could he, in good conscience, send his best friend back to Earth to be picked apart by a battery of Starfleet psychiatrists? It would mean the end of Trip's career. And without Commander Tucker in uniform, Starfleet would be denied access to one of the greatest engineering minds of his generation.

And what about Jonathan Archer? What did he stand to lose? Only the companionship of a man he loved like a brother. He'd fought so hard for Trip, protected him on so many occasions, but without a little luck, that was all about to come to an end. He was the captain. This time he had to do what was best for Starfleet and for _Enterprise_. All he had to cling to was the wafer-thin hope that a Vulcan priest could pull off some kind of miracle. If that didn't happen, if there was no miracle, then his hands were tied. This time, instead of saving Trip, he could, in fact, become the instrument of his destruction.

TBC


	23. Chapter 23

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

I would also like to thank everyone who has read the chapters I've posted. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review them.

CHAPTER 23: SOVAL

"How much do you think the humans know about our wayward cousins?" Torok asked Ambassador Soval.

The two Vulcans were sequestered in the small library, which along with an equally small bed chamber, comprised the quarters of the high priest. The only furnishings in the room were two curved-back chairs and a small octagonal table of brushed metal. An intricately stitched wall hanging adorned the wall behind the chairs. The focal point of the hanging was a large grey triangle. Wedge-shaped rays, done in muted shades of burgundy, orange, gold and dusty blue, radiated from the center, giving the entire piece a circular effect. Three bolts of embroidered light done in metallic threads shot from the top of the triangle at right angles, endowing the hanging with a power and grandeur that Soval had always found pleasing.

Floor to ceiling shelves ran along the opposite wall. Those shelves held the reading materials that Torok had meticulously collected during his lifetime. An encyclopedic collection, it contained a portion of the wisdom and knowledge of many worlds.

"Very little," Soval answered, after giving the matter some thought. "I have made some discreet inquiries with representatives from various branches of Starfleet. To a man, their knowledge of the Romulan Empire seems to be confined to the encounter with the drone ship."

"Wasn't the humans' ship damaged several years ago by a Romulan mine?"

"Yes, but it amounted to nothing," Soval assured him. "The humans have had no direct contact with the Romulans. They are unaware of our common heritage. It would be best if we can keep them from discovering the connection, at least for the foreseeable future. Diplomatic relations between Earth and Vulcan are difficult enough without providing the humans with new reasons to distrust us."

"Romulan agents have spent decades infiltrating our government," Torok observed. "It is only a matter of time before the true identity of one of them is revealed. We must take precautions so that, when the worst happens, it does not become common knowledge. The humans must not learn of it."

"I will speak with Kuvak and T'Pau," Soval said as he leaned toward the table. "We need to begin making plans to deal with such an eventuality." He picked up a glass and filled it with water from an elegantly curved alabaster carafe. Before setting the carafe back on the table, he held it up, offering to fill a glass for the high priest.

Torok distractedly shook his head. "I was relieved when V'Las was removed from power. I have been suspicious of him for many years now. His policies have steadily pushed us toward a confrontation with Andoria. Of course, you are aware that he was the man responsible for setting up the listening post in the P'Jem monastery."

Soval nodded.

"Covert surveillance. Spies." Torok waved his hand dismissively. "Blatant sacrilege. The threat of a war with the Andorians has been hanging over our heads for far too long. If this policy is allowed to continue, it will further divide our already weakened government, leaving Vulcan ripe for a coup d'etat. I don't need to tell you, Soval, that the Romulans destroy by stealth. They burrow from within, spreading their poison, until the body politic dies. They do not want to unite our peoples; they wish to enslave us."

"I agree," Soval said seriously. "Given the present circumstances, we could be vulnerable if the Romulans choose to mount a well-organized attack. It might be necessary for us to seek help from the Coalition."

Torok leaned back in his chair. "An alliance cobbled together by humans. It is ironic, isn't it?"

"Yes. The future of our species may well rest in the hands of those same emotionally unstable humans we have disdained since making first contact over a century ago. But there can be no doubt that the humans are all that hold this uneasy coalition together. In my estimation, we must do whatever it takes to keep their loyalty. Unfortunately, it will not be an easy transition for many of our people."

"No. We have felt superior for far too long." Torok looked pointedly at Soval. "Where are we most vulnerable?"

"At the moment, Admiral Kiran is in a position to do the most damage."

The wrinkles on Torok's forehead deepened as he furrowed his brow. "Kiran is a fool. He is easily led by shrewder men who pander to his prejudices."

Before Soval could reply, there was a knock on the door. "You may enter," Torok called authoritatively.

The door opened and T'Pol stood in the arched doorway, her red uniform standing out in stark contrast to the tawny color of the surrounding walls. She hesitated before taking a few steps into the room. "I do not wish to disturb you, but I thought you would like to know that Captain Archer just left. I am afraid that his meeting with Commander Tucker did not go well."

"And how is Commander Tucker?" Torok asked.

"He is deeply disturbed." T'Pol seemed to be unaware that as soon as she spoke those words, both of her hands clenched into fists. "I believe that he is in danger of being overwhelmed by his grief."

"You seem unsettled, T'Pol," Soval said with concern in his voice. "I take it that Mr. Tucker is no longer able to shield his thoughts from you."

"He is trying to protect me, but he cannot. His emotions are too chaotic, too painful." T'Pol suddenly took a deep breath and straightened her stance. In one smooth motion, her hands disappeared behind her back. "You need not be concerned. I have dealt with Mr. Tucker's turbulent emotions in the past. I can do so again."

Lifting her chin, she continued, "Captain Archer was finally able to convince the commander to lie down, but I do not believe he will be able to fall asleep without assistance."

"Have Doctor Kaal see to the commander's needs," Torok said. "Instruct him to give you a sedative as well."

"That will not be necessary. If I meditate…"

"Do as I say, T'Pol," Torok ordered in a no-nonsense tone of voice. "Commander Tucker's ordeal has only just begun. Tomorrow he will need your strength and support. It would be best if you are rested."

"I will do as you wish," T'Pol answered.

When she turned to leave, Soval called out to her. "T'Pol, I was just about to brief Torok on a matter of great importance. I believe it is something you should hear as well."

Soval glanced quickly at the high priest who instructed him to proceed.

"I spoke to Admiral Kiran twenty minutes ago. T'Pol, he knows that you are here with Commander Tucker. Like many others, he is aware of the furor that surrounded both of you when Terra Prime created a child from your DNA. So far, the admiral has not been able to discover why the two of you came here, but he is suspicious."

"What T'Pol and that young man do is none of Kiran's business," Torok replied. "He should be spending his time reorganizing our fleet, not behaving like a gossipy old woman."

"I am afraid it is far worse than that," Soval said grimly. "The admiral has threatened to break off the talks with Archer and the humans unless he can be assured that T'Pol and Mr. Tucker have not entered into a relationship."

T'Pol pressed her lips into a thin line. She was obviously distressed by the news. After a silent struggle to regain her composure, she murmured, "I can assure you that we will not allow the talks to be cancelled. When Trip…Commander Tucker is better…when he is thinking clearly…we will try to find a way…"

"That will not be necessary," Torok said firmly. "You have more pressing concerns. Let me handle Admiral Kiran."

"And what if he will not be handled?" Soval observed reluctantly. "I do not like to submit to threats, but we must think of the good of the many. I believe the admiral has the power to drive a wedge between the humans and our government. His distrust of all aliens could even put the Coalition at risk."

"There are always options."

Torok turned his attention to T'Pol. "Go and see the doctor. Tell him that I want him to sedate both you and Commander Tucker. Is that understood?"

"Yes," T'Pol answered quietly.

"And I shouldn't have to remind you, T'Pol, that your uniform is out of place here. While you are at the Sanctuary, I expect to see you in more appropriate attire."

She bowed slightly then, turning on her heel, left the room.

When they were once again alone, Torok said, "I believe I will have a drink of water after all, Ambassador."

Soval reached for the carafe and poured a glass of water for the high priest. "Do you really think that we can stop Kiran and his supporters?"

"We have no choice." Torok took the glass from Soval, drank deeply and returned the glass to the table. "The talks must continue. That is inarguable. We must also do all that we can to protect Commander Tucker. I believe that he can be useful to us. With the proper training, he is a man who could eventually move comfortably in both the human and the Vulcan worlds."

Soval was caught off guard by that statement. "Commander Tucker is one of the most emotional humans I have ever known. I find it hard to believe that he would ever be comfortable in our world."

"Do not underestimate him. He has an agile mind, an ability to adapt to his surroundings, and a gift for putting people at ease. Through his relationship with T'Pol, I believe he has also developed a genuine interest in our people. He has integrity and he is not easily intimidated. If this Romulan threat persists, he could become a valuable advocate for us."

"Yes," Soval said slowly as he carefully considered his mentor's words. "You might be right. He did make a favorable impression on T'Les, and I know that she held a rather low opinion of humans."

Soval folded his arms and began to think out loud. "At present, Jonathan Archer is the man who holds the Coalition together. I believe that he will try to be impartial, but he has resented Vulcans since he was a boy. That mindset is hard to break. Archer is stubborn and often unwilling to take the advice of others, but if any man can get through to him, it would be Commander Tucker." Soval found himself beginning to warm to the idea. "And if for some reason Archer is forced to step aside, Mr. Tucker is a formidable leader in his own right. He has twice prevented a war with Andoria while in command of _Enterprise_. Yes. It might be a viable option."

"But this must be handled carefully," Torok cautioned. "That young man is no fool. If he thinks that we see him only as a pawn we can control, he will resent it…and rightly so. I want him to think for himself. If he formulates his own opinions, his arguments will be far more compelling."

"I will make a point to spend more time with him whenever possible. At the very least, it will give him an opportunity to use me as a sounding board."

"That is very wise, Soval." Torok allowed his gaze to travel around the room. "I believe Commanders Tucker and T'Pol represent the future. For the preservation of both species – humans and Vulcans – we must learn to set aside our differences and work together, much as they have."

"Our people will not accept their relationship. I doubt that the humans will either."

"It will take time. For now, it would be best if their relationship was not common knowledge. But if we lay the proper groundwork, they can eventually emerge as a symbol of the strong union between our two peoples." Torok leaned in toward Soval. "It will not be easy. As you have already noted, it is never easy to change the habits of a lifetime, but it must be done. When I am gone, the responsibility will fall to you, Ambassador, to continue to mold public opinion. The bond between humans and Vulcans must ultimately become as strong the bond that joins T'Pol to that young man."

Frowning, Soval said, "You do not set an easy task for me."

"Of course it isn't easy, but it must be done." Torok leaned forward, giving added weight to his words. "We have always lived amidst our enemies. Some of them now purport to be our friends, but I ask you, Soval, can they be trusted? Our Romulan cousins threatened us from within. The discovery of the Kir'Shara has left our people feeling confused about who they are and what it means to be Vulcan. Our fleet is ineffectual. Our government is in chaos. We do not live in easy times, Ambassador."

"I did not mean…"

"We have adapted in the past in order to survive. We must do so again. Mark my words, these humans will not stop until they have reshaped this quadrant to suit themselves. They are not as ruthless as the Klingons or the Romulans, but they are just as determined. If we do not move forward with them, we will be left behind to struggle alone."

"I understand."

"I hope you do, Soval. The members of the High Command made a serious mistake when they refused to support Earth in the fight against the Xindi. For years, humans have chafed under our control. Now Archer and the crew of _Enterprise_ have proved conclusively that the humans no longer need us. Unaided, they not only destroyed the weapon that threatened Earth, but managed to persuade their enemies to become allies. That is an impressive accomplishment."

"You are correct in your assessment," Soval observed, "but, whether the humans are prepared to admit it or not, they do still need us. We represent the voice of order and reason. Vulcan logic will ensure that any strides the humans make will be built upon a solid foundation."

Torok leaned back in his chair and seemed to relax a bit. "I agree. Now you must convince both parties that this is the new reality."

Soval nodded in resignation.

"I do not expect you to do this alone, Soval. Kuvak is too weak to be of much help, but T'Pau and Vaaris stand ready to assist you. They are still very young, but I have been grooming both of them for years to assume positions of authority in the government. Now that they sit on the council, feel free to make use of their prodigious talents."

"I regret that Admiral Forrest is no longer alive," Soval murmured. "His assistance would have been invaluable."

"Another victim of V'Las and his unspeakable treachery," Torok observed. "The admiral's death was unfortunate, but we must concern ourselves with the resources that are now available to us. Who speaks for the humans?"

Soval paused for a moment to organize his thoughts. "Admiral Gardner has assumed Admiral Forrest's duties. He is a risk taker with modest diplomatic skills. He is rumored to have less than warm feelings toward aliens, but I have personally seen no indication of prejudice on his part.

"Admiral Uhlani has little deep space experience, having spent most of his career in administrative positions. He is a staunch advocate for the creation of a strong, unified front to meet the Romulan threat. He is both a visionary and an extremely powerful man. We would do well to keep our eye on him.

"Mr. Samuels is a politician."

Torok's only response was a dismissive wave of the hand. "Can you tell me anything more about Jonathan Archer?"

"He is a good man. Some day he might even become a great man. At the moment, he is well positioned to influence history, but he must first master himself. Most of his life has been spent trying to emerge from his father's shadow. Archer is an idealist who has been gravely disillusioned by the Xindi conflict. He has consistently shown an inability to delegate in times of crisis. By choosing to place himself in life-threatening situations, he removes himself from a position of overall command and ultimately places much of the responsibility for the success or failure of a mission in the hands of a subordinate. His strongest asset is his gift for bringing people together.

"So my recommendation," Soval concluded, is to watch Gardner, court Uhlani, and rely heavily on Archer, T'Pol, and Tucker."

A shadow passed over Torok's face.

"What is it?" Soval asked uneasily.

"Commander Tucker can only help us if he is able to resume his duties. At the moment, I am not sure if that is possible."

"Your talk with him was not beneficial?"

"Yes and no," Torok said softly. "At some point in his life, that young man experienced a horrific event, which is slowly destroying his katra. He has buried that memory so deeply that I would have done irreparable damage to his mind if I had tried to forcibly gain access to it. In order to help him, I must know what he is hiding." Torok locked eyes with Soval. "I want you to speak with someone who knew him as a child, preferably his parents."

"His parents were members of Terra Prime. They may not be willing to talk to me."

"Until recently, Commander Tucker has had a close and supportive relationship with his parents. I am sure that they will only want what is best for him. If you approach them in the proper way, they will tell you what I need to know."

"I will do my best."

Torok allowed his eyes to roam around the room once again before settling on the ambassador. "This young man intrigues me, Soval." The high priest's voice was surprisingly gentle. "We must set his mind at rest."

- - - - - - - - - -

"May I help you, sir?" Even across the light years Soval could see the confusion in the intensely blue eyes that stared back at him.

"I would like to speak with Mr. Charles Tucker, Jr."

The young freckle-faced man in Starfleet blue tilted his head to one side and wrinkled his brow. "Pardon me, sir, but aren't you the Vulcan ambassador?"

"That is correct. I am Ambassador Soval. And you are?"

A lock of henna hair fell across the human's forehead as he snapped to attention. "Lieutenant Hugh MacElvoy, Starfleet Intelligence, at your service. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

Soval raised one eyebrow in surprise. "Starfleet Intelligence?"

"Yes, sir. Mr. Tucker contacted Starfleet yesterday. I'm afraid there's been a little trouble here."

Looking beyond the eager lieutenant, the ambassador could see that the office in which the young man stood was in a state of disarray: a few glass shards still clung to the frame of a large picture window on the back wall, a cabinet door hung askew, and debris littered a large metal desk and the surrounding floor.

"What happened?"

"A terrorist group planted a bomb in the office at Mr. Tucker's boatyard." MacElvoy's head pivoted as he surveyed the damage. "Evidently, they're a splinter group that broke away from Terra Prime. We'd never heard of them until they took credit for this bombing."

Taken aback, Soval asked, "Was anyone hurt?"

"No. The bomb went off at night when everyone was gone." Lieutenant MacElvoy looked a little disappointed. "Actually, it really wasn't much of a bomb. Just blew out the windows and messed things up a bit. Oh, and some of the boats out in the yard were vandalized." The lieutenant shrugged. "A little paint, a sledge hammer, a couple of two by fours…you know how it goes. It looks like it was done more as a warning than anything else. I think the terrorists just wanted to remind the Tuckers that they could strike at them any time, anywhere. Fortunately, it appears as though the Tuckers don't run scared. I think if Mr. Tucker had his way, he'd personally kick each of those terrorists from today clear into tomorrow." Suddenly remembering to whom he was speaking, Lieutenant MacElvoy stiffened and instantly wiped the grin from his face.

"Is Mr. Tucker on the premises?"

"Yes, sir," MacElvoy replied crisply. "He's out in the boatyard. I'll get him for you. Good-bye, Ambassador." Soval nodded and the lieutenant immediately disappeared from view.

Soval sat quietly as he reviewed the information MacElvoy had provided. It was fortuitous that Commander Tucker was sequestered on Mount Seleya. In his present condition, who knows what kind of an effect such news would have on the already distraught human?

"Who in the hell are you and whadda ya want?" A rather florid human face glared belligerently at Soval. "I'm a little busy right now."

Soval took in the slope of the nose and the shape of the face. There could be no doubt that this man was the commander's father. "I am Soval, Vulcan Ambassador to Earth. I would like to speak with you about your son."

"Great! That's all I need!" Charlie Tucker plowed his fingers through his graying hair. "Have those terrorist bastards done something to Trip?" The stocky human in the blue plaid shirt thrust his face closer to the screen and stabbed one finger in Soval's direction, causing the Vulcan to instinctively pull back. "I swear if they've hurt my boy, I'll kill the lot of them! They call themselves the Sons of Liberty. Don't that beat all! They're sons of bitches, if you ask me." Huffing, he looked away. "Those worthless scum suckers couldn't even come up with an original name," he grumbled under his breath.

"Calm yourself, Mr. Tucker. No one has injured your son."

"Then why am I talkin' to ya?" Mr. Tucker's attention snapped back to Soval. "I don't usually get calls from Vulcan ambassadors. We don't exactly travel in the same social circles, ya know."

"I am aware of that." Soval sighed inwardly. It appeared as though the father was going to be even more exasperating than the son. "At present, Commander Tucker is staying at the Sanctuary on Mount Seleya. He came to us to try and regain his health. He has been…"

"I don't believe that for a minute," Tucker interrupted angrily. "Why would he go to you Vulcans for help? Starfleet has plenty of human doctors. We need to take care of our own."

"Mr. Tucker…"

"You say he's not feelin' well," Tucker growled. "What's wrong with him?"

"Your son is struggling with depression."

"Depression? I think you've got your wires crossed. Trip's tough. He can handle anything life throws at him. Now, if there's nothin' else, I've got a real mess to clean up here."

"I know you're upset about the destruction of your property, but do not take this lightly, sir," Soval chided. "If we cannot resolve this problem, and quickly, the commander will probably be forced to resign from Starfleet. His career will be in ruins. I do not believe you want that any more that I do."

Mr. Tucker stood motionless, hands on hips, as he processed what the ambassador had just told him. Finally, he muttered, "As bad as that?"

"I am afraid so."

Tucker raised his right hand and scrubbed it across the back of his neck. "You talk like you know my son."

"I have known Commander Tucker for five years. He is a brilliant engineer and an extremely capable leader. He is also my friend."

"I didn't think you Vulcans had friends," Mr. Tucker scoffed.

"I have lived on Earth for many years. I understand what it means to be a friend. Your son stood by me when my government stripped me of my position. He helped to avert a war between my people and the Andorians. Now, I would like to return the favor. I cannot do that without your help."

Mr. Tucker cast his eyes downward and shook his head. After a few moments, Soval could only conclude from the human's rigid posture that he was unwilling to cooperate. It was regrettable, but not totally unexpected. This, after all, was a man who had no great love for aliens. He would not willingly entrust his son to their care.

"I apologize for bothering you, Mr. Tucker," Soval said quietly. "This is obviously not a good time to…"

Before Soval could finish, Mr. Tucker suddenly raised his head and said, "You must think that I don't give a damn about my boy." He swept his arm around the room. "Compared to my son's welfare, my business, this office, the boats – none of them means anything to me. If Trip went to you for help…if you're his friend, that's good enough for me. I'll do anything I can. What do ya want ta know?"

Soval took a split second to reflect on the unpredictability of human nature. No matter how many years he spent on Earth, he would never be able to fully fathom the inner workings of the human mind.

"Tell me, Mr. Tucker, was your son involved in some tragic event during his childhood? Something so devastating that it might mark him for the rest of his life?"

Instantly, the color drained from Mr. Tucker's face. Turning away, he shook his head as though he was trying to drive an intolerable thought from his mind. "It can't be," he mumbled softly. "Not after all this time."

"Mr. Tucker, I know this is difficult for you," Soval said sincerely, "but I must know what is troubling the commander."

"There's gotta be some mistake." Mr. Tucker turned back and looked the Vulcan squarely in the eye. "Trip got over that years ago."

Soval managed to suppress a sigh. Why couldn't humans be straightforward? Where was the logic in speaking in riddles?

"There is no mistake," Soval stated pointedly. "Please tell me. What did your son 'get over'?"

Trip's father continued on as though the Ambassador hadn't spoken. "He dealt with those memories and moved on. He was the same happy kid he'd always been. He laughed, he played..."

"Mr. Tucker."

"…he was smart – smarter than any of my other kids. It never affected his school work. Trip's the toughest kid I've ever known."

Raising his voice, Soval exclaimed, "Mr. Tucker, please."

Trip's father immediately fell silent. He had a defiant look on his face, but there was pure anguish in his eyes.

"The commander has never been able to deal with the memories of some traumatic event," Soval stated firmly. "They are slowly destroying his life. Tell me what happened so that we can help him finally put the past to rest."

As Soval watched, all of the fight drained out of Trip's father. Within moments, only a weary, beaten man remained. "I need to sit down," he mumbled before turning slowly to retrieve a chair that lay discarded on the floor beside the desk.

When he was seated, he once again met Soval's eyes and slowly started to talk. "You're spot on. Trip was involved in an accident. A terrible, terrible…" Obviously distressed, Mr. Tucker rubbed a weathered hand across his mouth. "I guess I'd better explain." He took a deep breath. "My father-in-law loved antique airplanes. After years of beggin' and pleadin', he finally talked his wife, Olivia, into letting him get a twin-engine Piper Seminole. It wasn't long before she regretted her decision because Joe treated that plane better than he ever treated her. He flew every chance he got. A couple of times a month, he'd fly down from their home in Winter Haven and take us for a ride. My other three kids got tired of it pretty quickly, but Trip could never seem to get enough. He loved that plane as much as his grandpa did.

"The day after Trip's tenth birthday Joe and Olivia flew down to spend a few days with us and take him on a special plane ride. Trip talked about nothing else for weeks. My wife and I went to the airport with them and watched them take off. That was the last time my wife saw her parents alive. The plane went down in the Everglades. The experts said it was some sort of catastrophic mechanical failure. To be honest, I didn't want to know the details.

"I went with the rescue party. We found what was left of the plane about forty minutes after it crashed. Joe and Olivia were dead, but the good Lord was lookin' out for Trip. He was scratched and bruised, but there were no broken bones or internal injuries. We found him sittin' on a log beside the plane. He was in shock: shiverin', covered in his grandparents' blood. The medics wrapped him in blankets and, after he was stabilized, they let me hold him all the way to the hospital. I talked to him about anything and everything I could think of, but he didn't seem to know who I was. He spent three days in the hospital before the doctors finally released him. He's never talked about what happened that day…to anyone."

"You tried to find someone to help him deal with the trauma, didn't you?" Soval asked quietly.

"Of course we did – first thing," Mr. Tucker said indignantly. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he seemed to regret his abruptness. "Trip is just too damn stubborn for his own good. We took him to one doctor after another. He'd grudgingly talk to them about school or his dog or his favorite football team, but as soon as they'd ask him about the accident, he'd clam up. He'd just sit there, starin' off into space. We even tried hypnosis a couple of times. That didn't work either. We finally gave up.

"During the day, he seemed to be doin' as well as could be expected, but at night, he'd have terrible nightmares. He'd wake up screamin', tremblin' all over, covered in sweat. Then things started to get a little better. The nightmares seemed to be a thing of the past. Less than a month after the crash, he collapsed from exhaustion. It never occurred to us that a kid could develop insomnia. He'd read all night or work on one of his hobbies or projects for school – anything but sleep. Trip went back into the hospital for a couple of days. When we brought him home again, a doctor sent along a prescription for a sedative, and he was finally able to get some sleep. He was so young," Mr. Tucker said in a solemn voice. "No kid should have ta deal with so much misery."

"But he did deal with it," Soval observed. "He apparently learned to survive by suppressing his memories." 

"I guess that makes as much sense as anything. A month after the accident my wife asked Trip if he was uncomfortable having a picture of his grandparents on the fireplace in the family room. He didn't know what she was talkin' about. He didn't know the picture was there. He honestly couldn't see it. He never spoke about them, and to make things easier for him, we didn't either. It was hard on my wife. She kinda figured that it was disrespectful to her parents' memory, if you know what I mean. But Trip came first. It took him almost five years before he was finally able to acknowledge that they were dead. To this day, if you ask about his grandma and grandpa, he'll tell you that they died in an accident. That's it."

"Having watched Commander Tucker over the years, I would not have guessed that he had experienced such a disturbing event in his youth," Soval said. "When I first met him he seemed rather wide-eyed and innocent, as though the unpleasant side of life had never really touched him."

"People think Trip's easy to read, but they're wrong. Nobody knows what he's really thinkin' or feelin' unless he wants them ta know. For awhile, he was kinda angry – lashin' out at everyone who tried to help – but I guess that just didn't sit real well with him. Trip's a fighter. He does whatever it takes to get things done. He decided that he wanted to be happy, so he worked through things until he felt happy again. He wanted his life to be like it was before the crash, so he made it happen. I know it's hard to believe, but he did it all by himself. My wife and I were so relieved to have our easygoing, energetic boy back that we didn't ask too many questions." Mr. Tucker took a deep breath and sighed. "Maybe we should have."

"Was he ever troubled again by these memories?" Soval asked.

"He hit some rough spots over the years, but I can only remember one other time when things really got out of whack for him. One of Trip's high school buddies drowned accidentally while they were out swimmin' together. When the police brought Trip home, he kept to his room for the rest of the evening. By the following day, he'd pulled himself together enough so that he was able to give the police a statement and talk to Vince's parents. He tried to hold back the tears at the funeral, but it was obvious that he was devastated. His insomnia came back with a vengeance, but somehow it never really seemed to slow him down during the day. About a week after the accident, he asked our doctor for some sedatives. He refused to go for counseling. Said he didn't need it. After a couple of months, he'd worked his way through his grief and things were back to normal."

Soval nodded. A great many things were beginning to make sense.

"I hope this helps." Mr. Tucker rose from his chair and pushed it back toward the desk. "Please do what you can for my son. I've lost one child already. I'll be damned if I'm gonna lose another." He swallowed hard and looked away. "You must think I'm a pretty sorry excuse for a father, lettin' my boy suffer this way all these years."

"Not at all," Soval replied calmly. "I have observed that Commander Tucker will always put the welfare of others before his own. I suspect that when your wife's parents died, she was unable to hide her grief from him."

Mr. Tucker nodded. "Yeah, she was pretty broken up about the accident."

"Your son wanted to make his mother feel better. He knew that he could not resurrect his grandparents, but he could restore her happy, healthy son to her. He did whatever was necessary in order to make that happen. He was simply too young to realize that his actions could have long-term consequences."

"I should have done more for Trip." Mr. Tucker smacked one fist against the palm of his other hand. "I should have found a way to help him, instead of leavin' him to manage on his own."

"Come now, Mr. Tucker. Self-recrimination will accomplish nothing. Besides, I believe that you may have just given us the key to helping your son."

"I hope you're right." Mr. Tucker again looked directly at Soval. "I'd be pleased if you'd call me by my given name. You can use Charlie or Charles…whichever comes easier to ya. Just don't call me Chuck. Whenever I hear that, it always puts me in mind of a piece of meat."

The ambassador raised one eyebrow, momentarily at a loss for words. "I believe I would prefer Charles. And you may address me as Soval."

"Soval, huh? Interestin' name." Mr. Tucker took a step closer to the monitor. "Now that we've got that settled, I hope that you'll give me a call and let me know how Trip's doin'. I won't be gettin' much sleep until I know that he's gonna be okay."

"I will contact you again in the next couple of days…Charles." Mr. Tucker's face broke out in a grin. Soval marveled again at the enjoyment humans derived from such simple things. So like children.

"Thanks, Soval. I'd appreciate that. You know, just when you think you've got life figured out, it jerks you around and points you in another direction. Last year I'd have been glad to personally escort every damned alien off the face of this planet. Now here I am exchangin' pleasantries with the Vulcan ambassador. And you're tryin' your best to help my son." Mr. Tucker shook his head as though he still couldn't quite believe what was happening.

"That Dr. Phlox on _Enterprise_ seems to be a real nice guy. And T'Pol – that little Vulcan gal of Trip's…" Soval nodded in recognition. "She called to tell us to be on the look out for trouble. That was mighty nice of her." Mr. Tucker pursed his lips and dropped his eyes. Slowly one foot began to move, tracing lazy circles through the debris on the floor. "Yeah," he mumbled under his breath, "that was sure mighty nice of her. That son of mine had better watch himself."

"I beg your pardon." Soval wrinkled his brow in an attempt to understand this human whose thoughts and emotions swung so freely from one extreme to the other.

Mr. Tucker's head came up, but instead of looking at the Vulcan, his gaze wandered off to a far corner of the room. "Trip's got no common sense when it comes ta women. That T'Pol's already got him runnin' around in circles. All she's gonna have to do is bat her eyes and swivel her hips a couple o' times, and he'll be roped and branded for life."

Soval sat a little straighter. That last statement was definitely unexpected. "Do you find that possibility distasteful?"

Mr. Tucker considered for a moment. His face remained impassive, but Soval could tell there was a war going on behind the human's eyes.

"I suppose you think I'm gonna say yes," Mr. Tucker responded edgily, finally dragging his attention back to the Vulcan. "Well, I'm nobody's fool, Soval. It's pretty obvious that Trip thinks the world of her. I know that if we force him to choose, he'll walk away from us and we'll never see him again. I'm not gonna let that happen. If Trip loves her, that's good enough for me."

Evidently sensing Soval's continued skepticism, Charlie added, "Look, I'm a big enough man to admit when I've been wrong. You can't judge all aliens by the actions of a few anymore than you can with human beings. Besides, it wasn't aliens, but a bunch of no-good, hell-raisin' humans who blew up my office and ruined my boats."

As soon as the last word left his lips, Mr. Tucker's brow creased and a troubled look passed over his face. His eyes quickly glanced around the room. "Don't tell Trip what happened here. He needs to be concentrating on getting better, not worryin' about us. We'll be fine. I only hope…" He hesitated for moment as his jaw clenched. "I only hope that he can forgive me for bein' so blind. I want my son back. I miss him."

"Rest assured, Charles, that we will do everything we can. And do not worry. I will refrain from telling the commander about the terrorists' activities. You are correct. It will not aid him in his recovery. When he is better, perhaps he will contact you and you can tell him yourself."

"That would be…"

Suddenly, the office door swung open and a rangy old man in a blue denim shirt stuck his head in. "Hey, Charlie, we got more problems. You better get your butt out here and…" The man's eyes moved rapidly from Tucker to the monitor, taking in the situation. "Sorry to interrupt, but those Starfleet boys think they've found another bomb in one of the boathouses. Thought you'd like to know." His grey eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Who's this guy? Is he givin' ya any trouble?"

"Shit," Charlie muttered under his breath as he ran his fingers once again through his hair, leaving strands sticking out at all sorts of unruly angles. "Take it easy, Earl. I'll be right out. Ambassador Soval and I are just about finished. He's tryin' to help Trip with some problems he's been havin."

"An ambassador, huh?" Earl let the door swing open a little wider so that he could get a better look. "You're gettin' up in the world, Charlie. Maybe when this here ambassador's done helpin' Trip, he can stop by and give us a hand. If a couple more of these bombs go off, we're gonna need all the help we can get." With that ominous pronouncement, Earl left, disgustedly slamming the door behind him.

"Don't mind Earl. He's worked for me for over thirty years. Sometimes I think he figures that he's runnin' the place instead of me." Mr. Tucker fixed his eyes on Soval. "Thanks again for bein' a friend to my boy. I'd best be goin' now."

"Live long and prosper."

Soval heard Mr. Tucker grumble, "Not much chance of doin' either at this rate," just before he broke the connection.

The ambassador sat quietly for a moment, reviewing what he had just learned.

"You did well."

Soval looked over toward the solitary figure seated in a shadowy corner of the room. "I believe that Mr. Tucker has given us all the information we need."

"Yes," Torok said solemnly. "Now we must give him back his son."

TBC


	24. Chapter 24

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

I would also like to thank everyone who has read the chapters I've posted. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review them.

CHAPTER 24: T'POL

"I do not need to see that human again."

T'Pol was taken aback by the disagreeable tone in Doctor Kaal's voice. That, coupled with a disdainful glare, left no doubt that he disapproved of her and her decision to associate with humans.

"As I have already stated," she began in a quiet, controlled voice, "the high priest has instructed me to…"

"My hearing is not impaired," he snapped coldly. "I will sedate your human. I will sedate you. I do not, however, have to be present to do so." He thrust two hyposprays into her hands.

She numbly looked down at them. One was labeled "Human." The second was labeled "Vulcan."

"I believe you are a scientist, Commander T'Pol. You should be able to administer a hypospray."

"The dosages…"

"…are written on this tablet. Adjust them to suit yourself." The doctor held out a padd to her. "If there is nothing else, I have work to do."

Silently, she took the padd, nodded once, and left the doctor to his work.

As she walked down the dimly lit corridor to Commander Tucker's room, the skirts of her taupe gown and olive green robes brushed against her legs. She held the two hyposprays out in front of her. Even in the warm air of the Sanctuary, they felt cold in her hand, tangible reminders of her fall from grace. Earlier in the day, two priests had turned away from her when she approached. She had seen the look in the doctor's eyes. How many people would be disgusted by her and the choices she had made? Would all doors be closed to her when it became known that she had allied herself with a human?

As she struggled with her emotions, her thoughts turned to _Enterprise_ and the warmth and acceptance she had eventually found there. Was she wrong to have stayed? After Klaang was returned to the Klingon home world, she could have walked away from _Enterprise_. Captain Archer and the other humans would have had no regrets, and she would not now be a pariah among her own people.

In time, she would have returned to Vulcan and married Koss. She would have borne his children and moved forward with her career. There would have been few surprises, but there would have been stability. Life would have been productive, fulfilling, and disciplined.

Instead, against all logic, she had chosen to stay on _Enterprise_. She had embarrassed her people by helping to expose their subterfuge at the P'Jem Monastery. She had sought out emotions, even though everything she had been taught warned against such an indulgence. She had allowed herself to be tempted by sexual curiosity and, for her sins, found herself bonded to an overly emotional and seemingly unstable human being. Now she was an outcast. Her mother had predicted this fate. Why hadn't she listened?

T'Pol slowed her pace as she neared the chamber occupied by Commander Tucker. When she reached the door, she paused. The chaotic emotions assailing her mind gave some indication of what awaited her inside. She took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself, but it was no more effective than a drop of water in a vast desert.

Reaching forward, she knocked on the door. When there was no response, she tried again. Finally, she triggered the door mechanism and watched in silence as the door slid open. The chamber was dimly lit. "Trip," she called from the doorway. Slowly, she entered and walked across the room. Much to her surprise, the bed was empty. As she pivoted in place, her eyes swept the room, but the commander was nowhere to be seen.

Tamping down a growing sense of unease, she deposited the hyposprays on the simple oval table at the center of the room and left hastily. Where would he go? The shuttlepod was the logical place to begin her search.

Moving quickly down the corridor, she exited the Sanctuary and headed for the main staircase. It was evening and the air was hazy from the waning heat of the day. As the sun went down, the shuttlepod below was encased in a golden light like a treasure chest made ready to be set before kings. She blinked and took a closer look. The hatch was closed. The interior of the shuttlepod was dark and appeared to be unoccupied. Casting her eyes about, she quickly spied a solitary figure at the far end of the landing. The waning light danced over his dark blond hair, setting it, too, aglow. Relieved, she headed towards him.

Trip stood leaning forward with his arms braced against the waist-high wall which ran along the edge of the landing. His attention was focused on the jagged rocks below. Stopping next to him, T'Pol stood silently for a few moments. When he failed to acknowledge her presence, she reached over and touched his arm, feeling the texture of the Vulcan suit beneath her fingertips.

"I went to your room and you were gone," she said quietly. "I was concerned."

He raised his head and looked out across the narrow valley to the towering mountains in the distance. "The walls were startin' to close in on me. I needed to get out and move around a bit."

She took in the light sheen of perspiration on his face. She knew he was not comfortable in this desert world, but, as always, he made no complaint. There was a tightness about his mouth and eyes that hinted at the terrible grief and hopelessness that threatened to crush his spirit.

"It is almost time for the evening meal. Would you like something to eat?"

"Thanks, T'Pol, but I'm not hungry. You go ahead."

She searched her mind for something to say, but she could only think of trivialities. Finally, for lack of anything better to say, she murmured, "This has been an exhausting day. You should…"

"Don't tell me to rest," Trip snapped. "Sleep isn't the answer for everything, ya know. Sometimes it's nothin' but a doorway straight to hell."

In his present state, she knew that words alone would not reach him. She needed to offer him some tangible form of comfort. Reaching out, she placed her hand lightly on top of his. Trip stiffened, but he didn't pull his hand away. After a moment, he slowly spread his fingers apart, allowing her to interlace her fingers with his. When he drew his fingers back, hers moved in unison until two hands loosely formed a single fist. It was a simple gesture, but she found it eminently satisfying. As she felt the warmth of his hand and the gentle pressure of his fingers against hers, all thoughts of Koss and a life spent as a dutiful Vulcan wife disappeared. Why was she fooling herself? She had no interest in any other man. Against all reason, this emotional human completed her. He meshed perfectly with her in body, mind and soul, like two intricately carved pieces in an ancient Vulcan puzzle.

The world about them was quiet, the air still. Overhead, the red-gold Vulcan sky was set ablaze as though doomed daylight was fighting valiantly to keep the encroaching night at bay. As she watched the glorious sunset with her chosen mate beside her, T'Pol realized that she was content. All that she cherished about her home world was laid out before her: the red-hued rocks, the heat rising from the sun-baked ground, the rugged elegance of the surrounding mountains, and the primitive energy of an untamed land. This was the world she had wanted to share with Trip when she brought him to Vulcan over a year ago. He had been impressed with its beauty then. Perhaps in time he could learn to be as comfortable here as she was.

Given her choice, she would have preferred to remain beside her mate far into the night, but all too soon, she felt Trip push himself away from the wall and his hand slipped out from under hers.

"I know you mean well, T'Pol," he said tightly, "but you don't have to babysit me. I have some thinkin' to do. I'll head back to my room in a little while."

"It is obvious that something is bothering you. Please tell me what is wrong."

Trip shrugged his shoulders and began to examine the bruised knuckles of his right hand. "Let's see. I didn't cooperate when the high priest tried to help me. I slugged the captain for no good reason. I ranted and raved like a crazy man. Is that enough for ya?"

"Torok and Captain Archer do not blame you for your actions. They understand that you are under a great deal of stress. There must be something else that is upsetting you."

Trip's head snapped up, and he glared at her. "Of course there is. That high priest of yours decided that a mind meld was the answer to all my problems. Well, he was just about as wrong as he could be. Diggin' up the past accomplishes nothing. He made me see things again – terrible things – that I've spent years tryin' to forget." A look of pure anguish contorted Trip's face. He tented his hands over his nose and squeezed both eyes shut as he fought to keep from breaking down. When he was finally able to speak again, he whispered, "I had to watch people I cared for…die all over again. Horrible, pointless deaths. They counted on me, T'Pol, and I let 'em down."

A wave of guilt washed over her. As she bolstered her inner defenses to withstand the onslaught, she knew, without question, that the feelings she was experiencing were his. She looked at his face and found it increasingly difficult to suppress her growing sense of alarm.

For the first time she began to question Torok's methods. The recovered memories were tearing Trip apart. He had obviously gained no consolation from his time with the high priest, only more misery and regret.

Dropping his hands, Trip asked plaintively, "Why do I always seem to hurt the people I care for the most?" He slowly opened his eyes and T'Pol could see that they now glistened with unshed tears.

"You have never harmed anyone," she answered, trying to keep her voice calm and reassuring.

"That's a load of crap and you know it," he choked out. "I'm hurtin' you right now. And don't tell me I'm not."

"Trip, please…"

"I don't know what to do, T'Pol," he said in a strangled voice. "I've tried so hard to shield you from my emotions, but nothin' I do works. I can't concentrate. I can't…" He turned his head away. "I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you anymore. The only way I can protect you is to sever our bond, but we can't do that because of me…because of my feelings for you. I have to do something. I have to make things right."

"You are mistaken, Trip." T'Pol raised one hand to his chest, gently placing her palm over his heart. Locking her eyes on his, she said, "We can't sever our bond because of our feelings for each other. It took both of us to create the bond…and to strengthen it. You have no reason to blame yourself."

"Don't lie to me, T'Pol." She could feel the misery churning in him as he fought for control. "I'm not blind, ya know. It's been pretty obvious that you and the captain want to be together." He gently pulled her hand away from his chest. "I don't blame you for wantin' to be with someone else. The captain's a great guy. He'll take real good care of you. Just give me a little time and I'll find a way to sever our bond."

Refusing to lose contact with him, she clutched at his hand. Somehow she had to make him see reason.

"Trip, you are mistaken. I do not wish to sever our bond." Her voice began to rise slightly when his only response was a blank stare. "How I can make that clear to you?"

"T'Pol…"

Her mind raced as she searched desperately for a way to make him understand.

"You took care of me when our daughter died. Do you remember?"

Tucker slowly nodded his head.

"I was distraught and you stayed with me. I could not have regained control of my emotions without you. You were my salvation, Trip. Let me return the favor. Let me take care of you now. Please."

She could feel his resolve begin to weaken. He was too exhausted to fight her for long. "You only hurt me when you fail to take care of yourself. It is true that your emotions are powerful, but because of the help you once gave me, I can handle them. I will be all right. I want you to be all right, too." She loosened her grip and gently ran her thumb across the top of his hand. "If you don't wish to speak with Torok tomorrow then you must seek help elsewhere. It is important for you to discover what lies at the root of your problems. I care for you too much to see you in pain."

She reached up to stroke his face, but he intercepted her hand before she could touch him. His eyes locked on hers. She could feel his desperate need for her. Slowly, like the pull of metal to a magnet, he leaned forward. Her lips parted slightly to receive his kiss, but at the last moment he pulled away. Shaking his head, he released her hand and took several steps backward.

"There's no denying that I still have strong feelings for ya," Trip said tightly, "but I'm workin' real hard to put all that behind me." When she took a step towards him, he immediately raised both hands, palms forward, to warn her off. "Right now, I want you to stay away from me. No hand holdin'. No big brown eyes. No sweet talk or empty promises."

T'Pol felt her heart sink when she saw the determination in his eyes.

"I'm tired of bein' manipulated. How many times have you let me think you wanted us to be together only to have you shut me out of your life as soon as I try to get close? I'm not gonna live like that anymore, T'Pol. You have a chance to start over with Captain Archer. I have a chance to make a new life for myself away from Starfleet. It's time we go our separate ways."

T'Pol struggled to control her growing uneasiness. She had honestly thought that her words would be enough to convince him of her feelings for him. Obviously, she had been wrong. What more could she say? How could she prove to him that he was an irreplaceable part of her life?

"I appreciate that you want to help me," he continued, "but it's not necessary. The captain needs you at the conference with the Vulcans. That's where you should to be tomorrow, not here playin' nursemaid to me."

"That is not what I want," she said in a hushed voice. "I do not wish to leave you."

He took another step back. "It's the right thing to do." He tried to soften the blow with a smile, but the look in his eyes only confirmed how difficult this was for him. "Go on back to your room and try to meditate. It will make you feel better. I'll see you in the morning before you leave. Good night, T'Pol."

She reached for him, but he was already headed back to the Sanctuary and the privacy of his room. Her mind numbly refused to process his parting words. Their relationship couldn't be at an end. She raised a trembling hand and slowly began to massage her temple. She would not allow him to go through this hellish experience alone. He needed her, even if he was too stubborn to admit it. There must be something she could say, something she could do to bring him back to her.

Realizing that the trembling was becoming more pronounced, she crossed her arms and thrust her hands up the sleeves of her robe. Trip was right. She needed to meditate. She could be of no help to him if she allowed her emotions to spiral out of control. Besides, in meditation, she might be able to find a way to convince him that she was devoted to him alone. Turning her head, she caught a glimpse of the fiery red sun as it slowly sank below the horizon. She had to hurry. Time was running out.

- - - - - - - - - -

T'Pol glanced over her shoulder as she moved quickly down the corridor. Even though the hour was late, she knew, without question, that Trip was still awake. His body was starved for sleep, but the high priest's mind meld had opened the floodgates and the bitter memories continued to spill out, drowning him in grief.

Trip had been correct. Several hours of meditation had been very beneficial. She now felt more rested and composed, better able to wrestle with the negative effects of his turbulent emotions. The time spent meditating had also given her the opportunity to review their situation logically and develop a plan of action. This time she would not fail.

When she reached his room, she took a moment to collect her thoughts before knocking lightly on his door. Seconds ticked by and she received no response. Just as she was about to knock again, the door opened and she found herself staring into two puffy, bloodshot eyes.

"T'Pol?" Trip tilted his head to one side and stared at her. Tension radiated from him, but there was only disbelief in his eyes.

"May I come in?"

He stood with his body solidly blocking the doorway. "I don't know why I bother talkin'. Nobody listens to me anyway," Trip huffed. "I thought I made it pretty clear when I saw ya earlier today that I want to be left alone."

"I am aware of that, but since you suggested that I leave tomorrow, there are some things that I must tell you."

"Can't this wait? We can talk in the morning."

"No." T'Pol knew that she must stand firm. "It must be now. Please allow me to come in."

"T'Pol, I'm in my underwear," Tucker exclaimed in exasperation.

"I do not find that upsetting," T'Pol countered. "I've seen you in your underwear before."

"I know, but…"

This was taking too long. Raising her voice, T'Pol declared, "In point of fact, I have seen you when you were wearing nothing at all."

That did it. He quickly stood aside and jerkily motioned her into the dimly lit room. She was secretly pleased to see that he was blushing. When she was safely inside, he stuck his head out into the corridor and anxiously looked around before closing the door.

"Are you out of your mind?" he managed to choke out. "What if somebody heard you? These people already think I'm some sort of degenerate."

"The priests know that we are bonded," she answered matter-of-factly. "It is to be expected that mates will be intimate with one another." She stood, resplendent in her robes, back rigid and hands clasped firmly behind her.

He stared warily at her for few moments and then slowly started to put some distance between the two of them.

"I know you're concerned because I'm not asleep, but it isn't necessary." Nearing the center of the room, he noticed the two hyposprays lying on the table. "These are sedatives, right?"

She nodded.

He grabbed one and held it up for her to see. "This one's marked 'Human.' I think I'm still lucid enough to figure out that it's the one meant for me. You don't have to stay." When she made no move to leave, he tapped the hypospray nervously against his palm a couple of times. Finally giving up, he walked over and flopped down on the bed.

"Do you want to sleep?" she asked quietly.

He shrugged his shoulders.

Moving forward a couple of steps, T'Pol quietly called out, "Ha'ge," and suddenly light filled the room. Trip blinked a couple of times as his eyes adjusted. "I thought you might be tired of candlelight," she said.

"Yeah. Thanks. I was beginning to feel like I was stuck in the Middle Ages."

T'Pol was aware that Trip's eyes followed her as she walked around the room extinguishing the candles. "Vulcans find candlelight soothing. If you would prefer some other form of illumination, you must make your feelings known."

"I like candlelight, but I guess it was just too much of a good thing. After awhile, it just made me feel…" Trip swallowed and pressed his lips together.

"…depressed," T'Pol quietly finished the sentence for him.

"Yeah. Depressed." Trip looked down and began to study the well-worn stone floor. "I guess it's no secret that I've been depressed for a long time now. I just didn't want to admit it to myself. Usually I can bounce right back when things get me down. This time nothing I tried worked. I don't know what's wrong with me."

Sighing, he scrubbed a hand wearily over his eyes. "But you didn't come here to listen to me feel sorry for myself. What do you want, T'Pol?"

As he sat on the bed, shoulders slumped and head bowed, he looked so sad and alone. T'Pol wanted to sit down and comfort him, but she knew that he would not allow it. Not now – not ever – unless she could convince him that she cared for him above all others.

She also knew without question that this was her last chance.

Lifting her chin, she fired the first shot in the battle for her future. "It has been brought to my attention that we have a problem communicating with one another."

Trip's head popped up. She watched with interest as his eyes opened wide.

"It is something that I regret," she continued resolutely. "Much of the responsibility for this miscommunication rests with me. I never wanted you to know what I was really thinking…or feeling. From the very beginning, your presence has had an effect on me that I could not explain. I thought it was best to keep that from you. When you confronted me, when you brought up difficult or sensitive subjects, it was easier to talk around them or simply avoid them altogether."

"That door swings both ways, T'Pol," Trip countered sadly. "There were a lot of times when I wasn't honest with you either. I'd already struck out three times in relationships and bein' with you meant everything to me. I guess I just didn't want to take a chance on messin' things up. Lookin' back, I guess that wasn't too smart."

"I would like to be honest with you now," she said softly but firmly. "I want you to understand why I acted as I did."

When she paused, Trip's eyes remained riveted on her. "Go ahead," he said in a hushed voice.

T'Pol squared her shoulders. "While we were in the Expanse, I somehow lost myself. I finally came to the realization that I was becoming more…human than Vulcan. Deep down, I placed much of the blame for that change in my life on you and the influence your presence had over me." When she saw him stiffen, she quickly tried to explain. "I know that was unfair. The changes in me were caused by my weakness, my need to get closer to you.

"After the Xindi weapon was destroyed and _Enterprise_ returned to Earth, I thought we would finally have some time to ourselves…to see if there was more than a mere physical attraction between us. That is why I asked you to accompany me to Vulcan. Needless to say, things did not work out as I had planned."

Trip looked away, but she didn't need to see his face to know that his eyes were once again filled with pain. The memory of her marriage to Koss was still an open sore for both of them.

"My marriage was a mistake, but during my stay on Vulcan I realized how much I missed being back among my own people. I had allowed myself to become alienated from a culture that meant a great deal to me. The discovery of the Kir'Shara gave me the tools I needed to find myself again."

"And I didn't fit into the picture for the new, improved T'Pol," Trip said huskily.

"No," she admitted softly. "Not at that time. But my feelings for you never diminished."

"Yeah, right," he muttered and tossed the hypospray on the bed. "After our Elizabeth died, you needed me. Good old Trip, always ready to help a lady in distress. Once you were on the mend though, I became excess baggage again."

"No. You are mistaken."

Trip ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Being Vulcan is who you are, T'Pol. Don't you know that that was a big part of why I loved you?"

Her heart sank when she realized that he had used the past tense.

"If I wasn't interested in a relationship with a Vulcan, there were plenty of other women on _Enterprise_. And most of them were a whole lot more even-tempered than you were. I saw our relationship as a challenge, a partnership that could stimulate and inspire us as we grew older. All I ever wanted from you was a chance. I just wanted you to let me in – to share a little bit of who you are – but you always pushed me away. Okay, you got what you wanted. I quit botherin' you. Now why can't you do the same for me? Get out of my life and leave me alone!"

"I have never cherished anyone else," she said in a hushed voice.

Dropping his eyes, Trip balled his hands into fists and brought them down hard on the bed. "I really can't take this right now, T'Pol," he said through gritted teeth. "You need to leave."

She knew that, under the circumstances, she should not press him, but having found the courage to begin, she couldn't quit now. "I know that you believe that I have strong feelings for the captain…and I do."

"Damn you, T'Pol! That's enough!" Irate, Tucker jumped to his feet and took a menacing step towards her, both hands clenched into tight, unyielding fists. He threw one arm up and pointed a rigid finger toward the door. "Get out of here! Now!"

T'Pol expression did not change as she stood her ground. He should know by now that Vulcans are not easily intimidated. She would finish what she had to say.

"But my feelings are only those of a friend. Captain Archer returns my friendship. There is nothing more between us."

Trip dropped his arm and shook his head as though he wanted to drive her words and everything about her from his mind. "Why are you doing this to me? I saw the two of you together. I saw you touch him. Hell, you had your arms wrapped around each other. He came out of your room half dressed in the middle of the night. You…."

"It was all an illusion," she broke in before he became even more upset. "We were never romantically involved."

It was obvious from the set of his jaw that Trip remained unconvinced. "The captain told me that he cared for someone, but she was already spoken for. That was you."

"No," T'Pol countered softly. "He was speaking of Rebecca."

"Rebecca?"

"She married another man one month before we returned to Earth for the Coalition conference. The captain indicated that she had grown tired of waiting for him to settle down."

"He told you that?"

"Yes."

"I'm supposed to be his friend. Why didn't he tell me?"

"You would have to ask him that question. If you had come to dinner in the captain's mess on a more regular basis, you would have been privy to our conversation."

"When's this chat supposed to have taken place anyway?"

"He mentioned it to me three days before you and I discovered that we had a daughter. I would imagine that the opportunity to see you alone never presented itself."

"We've talked since then. He's had plenty of chances to tell me."

"You should know by now that Captain Archer would do anything to protect you. He knew that you were distressed. Perhaps he chose not to add his sorrow to the grief you already felt."

Trip's shoulders drooped and he slumped back down on the bed. "Why would you let me think that you didn't want to be around me? I loved you so much, T'Pol. I just wanted you to care for me a little in return."

Why did he keep speaking as though it was over between them? She knew that he still cared for her, and she returned those feelings. Why was he being so stubborn?

"I care for you deeply, t'hy'la." She slowly walked over to the bed. Her hand trembled slightly as she gently ran her fingers through his hair. "My affection for you goes far deeper than I ever thought possible."

For a moment he closed his eyes, seemingly lost in her touch, but then he jerked his head away and glared up at her. "Then why! You had to know what you were doin' to me!"

T'Pol swallowed hard. "I did it for you."

"For me? You cut out my heart and stomped on it because you were tryin' to help me!" He started to rise, but she put her hand on his shoulder, staying him. He sat back down, but not before angrily batting her hand away.

"Please let me explain." She knelt down in front of him, her robes falling in graceful folds around her. "At first I denied you because of the powerful emotions you stirred in me. My upbringing had not prepared me to deal with anything so intense. But you were patient with me and slowly we grew closer to each other. When our daughter Elizabeth died, I found that I needed you more than ever before. To my great regret, my loss of emotional control took a toll on you physically, and you became ill. Doctor Phlox told me that without remediation, you might die. I could not allow that to happen. I knew you would never let me go, so I was forced to do whatever was necessary to protect you."

"So why are you tellin' me about this now?"

Trip continued to look unconvinced, but T'Pol was gratified that he at least appeared to be willing to listen.

"When I pulled away from you, I could not understand why your health did not improve. Now I realize that there were other things that were weighing on your mind. By abandoning you, I only made the situation worse." She reached over and placed one hand lightly on his knee. "I'm sorry. Please let me make it up to you. Let me help you now."

"I don't want your pity, T'Pol," Trip said tightly. "And I don't need your help. I can manage just fine on my own."

"I am not asking to help you out of obligation or pity. I am only motivated by my regard for you. Is it so hard to believe that I care for you above all others?"

Trip looked at her with a longing that tore at her heart. "I want to believe you, T'Pol. I really do. But I can't. Professionally, I wouldn't hesitate to trust you with my life. But when things get personal…well…I just can't do it anymore." He scrubbed one hand across the back of his neck. "I'm too close to the edge right now. I can't afford to be blindsided by you."

"You have my promise," she said sincerely. "I will never hurt you again."

"Be honest, T'Pol," Tucker said with a weariness in his voice that was bone deep. "The first time something happens to me or somebody looks down their nose at us, you're gonna turn around and run."

T'Pol bristled and instantly looked away. "You think that I'm a coward?"

This time it was Trip's turn to be conciliatory. "Of course not. You're just about the bravest person I've ever known." He reached over and lightly touched her chin, turning her face towards him. "Remove those blinders you're wearin' and take a good hard look at us, T'Pol. We can't even carry on a simple conversation without hurtin' each other. You say you want us to be together. I don't believe it. I don't really think you believe it either."

T'Pol met and held his gaze. "There is no doubt in my mind that we belong together," she said softly, but with all of the sincerity at her command. "I know that I have failed you in the past. Those mistakes will not be repeated." Reaching into the folds of her robe, she pulled out a padd and handed it to him. "In order for you to begin to trust me again, I know that I must first demonstrate that I have complete trust in you."

"What's this?" Trip asked as he looked from the padd to her.

"It is my resignation from Starfleet."

"Your resignation?" Trip wrinkled his brow in bewilderment. "I don't understand. You've never expressed an interest in leaving Starfleet."

"When you are ready to resign, I will go with you. It is for you to decide when the time is right."

Trip was clearly stunned. Finally, he pulled himself together and thrust the padd back at her. "I can't take this, T'Pol. It's your decision to make. Your life is your own. Remember that talk we had once about personal choice?"

"I remember," she said softly. "It was good advice. I choose to entrust my life to you."

Trip placed the padd carefully on the bed beside him and stood up, pulling her along with him. "I'm really flattered, T'Pol, but I can't let you do this. I know how much your career means to you. You belong on _Enterprise_, not trailin' along after me. You have all the makings of a fine…"

She reached up and placed a single finger on his lips.

"We would not be content living apart, t'hy'la. You know that, as well as I do. My decision stands."

"Thalia." T'Pol was pleased that Trip's voice was growing a bit husky. "What does that mean?"

"The word is t'hy'la." T'Pol consciously pitched her voice so that it had a low, intimate tone. "In this context it means beloved or soulmate."

"Beloved?"

"Yes."

Trip's face still had an anguished look, but she could begin to see the glowing sparks of joy and hope in the depths of his eyes. "Are you sure, T'Pol? Because if you're not…"

"You have nothing to fear. I have made my decision. I will not change my mind."

Time seemed to stand still as Trip studied her face. Finally, he cautiously raised his hand and gently began to caress her cheek. Leaning her face into his touch, T'Pol covered his hand with hers. She could feel the familiar warmth and comfort begin to flow between them once again. Without breaking eye contact, she slid his hand toward her mouth and delicately placed a kiss on his palm.

"I can't believe this is happening," Trip whispered. "I've waited…hoped for so long. I'd finally given up. I thought I'd lost you."

Gently running other her hand around to the nape of his neck, she leaned in closer to him. "I belong to you. There can be no other. If you still doubt, open your mind to me. Then you will know that what I've said is true."

"T'Pol," Trip whispered as he brought his lips close to hers. "If you only knew how much I love you."

A slight pressure of her hand on the back of his head brought their lips together. He responded immediately, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. The surge of emotions that followed came close to overwhelming her. She knew that he cared for her, but she had underestimated the depth of his passion. Opening her mouth to his insistent demands, they deepened the kiss. There was a sense of urgency that she had never felt before. It was as though a banquet had just been placed before a starving man.

When they finally broke apart, Trip looked into her eyes one more time searching for affirmation. Apparently this time he found what he was looking for because he pulled her even closer and buried his face in her neck.

In that instant, T'Pol felt as though all of the planets in the universe had suddenly come into perfect alignment. She belonged to him. Nothing would ever keep them apart.

She opened her heart and mind to him, taking great pleasure in the joy he felt, but there was still so much pain. He hadn't exaggerated when he said that he was close to the edge. Sending soothing thoughts through their bond, she gently began to run one hand up and down his back. He was exhausted. He needed to sleep.

"Trip, I would like you to get into bed now," she murmured into his ear.

For an instant he froze. Then he jerked his head back and stared at her. The anticipation in his eyes was unmistakable.

"Do not jump to conclusions, Mr. Tucker," she said, trying to keep her voice firm. "I want you to go to sleep. What you are contemplating would not be restful."

"It might not be restful, but it would sure go a long way toward helpin' me to relax." His blue eyes pleaded hopefully with her. When she did not rebuff him, he slowly began to plant feathery kisses up and down her neck. "It's been awhile. Maybe you forgot how good we are together."

Without conscious thought, T'Pol tilted her head slightly to give him better access to her neck. Her memory was excellent. She had no problem remembering what it felt like to be in the throes of passion, her arms and legs wrapped around this gentle, caring man.

"This must stop, Mr. Tucker," she murmured breathlessly. Her words fell on deaf ears as he continued to trail kisses up the side of her face, each one sending tiny sparks throughout her central nervous system. Stifling a groan, she whispered, "Trip…my Trip." When he finally reached the pointed tip of one ear, she clutched at him, arching her back in sheer ecstasy.

Through a haze of pleasure, a tiny portion of her brain warned that this had to stop. He was in a fragile state. She couldn't afford to let her body overrule her common sense.

Forcefully, his lips once again claimed her mouth as his hands slipped beneath her robes looking for a way to loosen her clothing. She halfheartedly squirmed in his grasp, fighting against her need to join with him. She had to be strong for both of them. She had to…ooohh. The moment she felt his hand squeeze her left breast, all rational thought deserted her. Closing her eyes, she gasped and pressed her body against his, matching his arousal with her desire. Hungrily their lips met again, tongues dueling in the timeless quest for physical pleasure.

Suddenly, she felt Trip's body tense. Before she could adjust to his change of mood, his fingers dug into her back, and he buried his head in her shoulder.

"Trip, what is it?" T'Pol pulled back slightly and brushed her hand over the side of his face. "Tell me what's wrong."

"No," he whispered in a grief-stricken voice. "It can't be."

"Trip, look at me." When he failed to respond, she continued to stroke the back of his head. "Everything will be all right," she murmured soothingly. "You have nothing to fear."

After several minutes, he relaxed his hold on her.

"Trip, please tell me what is wrong." He straightened slightly and she once again ran her hand over the side of his face. "Should I send for the doctor?"

He pulled away from her and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. "I don't need the doctor. I guess it must have been some sort of flashback. I was back on _Enterprise_…in engineering. There were explosions. People dead…dyin'. Somebody's back was on fire. I tried…to put it out, but…"

"Has this happened before?"

"No."

T'Pol took hold of his arm to steady him. "Sit down."

"Why did this have to happen now?" he asked dejectedly. "I want to make love to you."

"This is not the time," she said softly.

"T'Pol, please…"

"No." She knew she had to be firm. "When we mate, I want to possess all of you – your mind as well as your body. Right now, that is not possible. You cannot make love to me and struggle with your memories at the same time. You know that what I say is true."

When she saw the look of acceptance in his eyes, she placed her hands on his chest and gently shoved just hard enough so that he lost his balance and sat back down on the bed.

"We will be together soon. I promise to make it worth the wait." She leaned over and picked up the padd and the hypospray. After placing a kiss on his forehead, she motioned for him to get under the covers. She was surprised when she saw a cloud pass over his features.

"Thanks all the same," he murmured, "but I really don't want to go to sleep."

"Trip, you know you must rest," she said, a frown lightly creasing her brow.

He shook his head and looked away from her. "There are too many dreams."

Once again, she allowed her fingers to brush lightly through his hair. "I understand. In the past, neuropressure has allowed you to sleep undisturbed. Why don't we try that? I will remain here. If you are awakened by a dream, you will not be alone. Would that help?"

Trip looked up at her and she could tell that she had already eased his mind. "Yeah, it might."

T'Pol caressed the side of his face, gently brushing her thumb over his cheek. "Good. Now please get into bed. Face down." Noticing the padd in her hand, she quickly deposited it under his pillow.

She walked to the center of the room and placed the hypospray on the table next to its counterpart. "I don't believe either one of us will require a sedative tonight."

While she removed her robes and gown, Trip pushed the covers aside and crawled into bed. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as he snaked one hand under the pillow and pulled out the padd. He stared at it for a moment, a mixture of joy and disbelief in his eyes, before thrusting it back under the pillow.

Now dressed only in the one-piece translucent white undergarment that hugged her body from neck to ankle, T'Pol walked to the bed and climbed over him, straddling his hips. As she worked the neural nodes around his neck, shoulders, and upper back, she found that she had to press harder than she would normally. His muscles were knotted by tension and stress. Slowly as she pressed, she could feel him begin to relax.

Trip sighed contentedly. "That's nice. I guess I should return the favor."

"That will not be necessary," T'Pol responded in a warm voice. "Once you are asleep, I believe that I will be able to sleep as well." When she felt him move under her, she leaned slightly forward to catch his eye.

"I'm getting pretty drowsy. Why don't you come to bed, t'hy'la?" He looked up at her expectantly. "Is that right?"

"That is correct." She caressed his smooth, muscular shoulders proprietarily and then slowly slid her hands down the full length of his back to his waist. No matter how many moments like this they had together, she knew she would never grow tired of touching him.

When he shifted again, she crawled off him. He slid over and raised the covers.

"Sayonotau," she said quietly and the room went dark. Accepting his invitation, she lay down beside him. Trip pulled the covers over them as she snuggled close, her back pressed up against his chest. When they were settled, she felt one of his hands travel from the hollow at her waist up along the swell of her hip.

Nuzzling his face into her hair, he whispered, "I love you, T'Pol."

His breath was warm against her ear, sending a tingling sensation down her spine. "I will care for you always, ashayam."

He lightly kissed her shoulder. "Another new word?"

"We will discuss it in the morning. Now that we are together, you have much to learn."

"How come you never used Vulcan words when we were together back on _Enterprise_?"

"The time never seemed to be right." T'Pol shifted slightly, searching for a more comfortable position. "I no longer have any misgivings. If we are to live together as mates, we must learn to share."

Trip wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. "Good night, darlin'," he murmured happily.

T'Pol could feel him relax, body and mind, and knew that he would soon be sound asleep. Surprisingly, she, too, began to feel drowsy. It had been a difficult day, and there was no sedative in the world as effective as the feel of his arms about her. She breathed in deeply, taking in his scent, and then closed her eyes. Slowly, two bodies in perfect harmony drifted off to sleep.

TBC


	25. Chapter 25

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

I would also like to thank everyone who has read the chapters I've posted. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review them.

CHAPTER 25: T'POL

"NO!"

T'Pol's eyes snapped open when she heard Trip cry out. By the light of a single candle, she rose from her meditation position and hurried across the room.

"Vince!" Trip sat bolt upright, his body bathed in sweat. "Where are you?"

T'Pol sat down on the bed next to him and grabbed his arms. She was distressed to feel his body trembling beneath her fingers. "Ha'ge!" she shouted and the lights came on. He blinked terror-filled eyes a couple of times and tried to pull away from her. "Wake up, Trip," she said forcefully. Even though he no longer appeared to be asleep, it was obvious that he was still hopelessly trapped in his nightmare.

"I've…gotta find him!" Trip shouted, gulping frantically to take in air. "He'll drown! Have ta…find him!"

Trip started to get up, but T'Pol immediately pushed him back down and shook him violently. "Trip, wake up!" His eyes flew around the room, desperately searching for his friend. With one hand, she grabbed his chin in a vise-like grip, forcing him to look at her, while the fingers of her other hand pinched the skin on his upper arm. "You must wake up now!" She watched anxiously as he tried to fight his way back to the real world.

Finally, he took a deep, shuddering breath and his eyes slowly focused on her. "T'Pol?" he whispered.

"Yes." Loosening her grip, she moved her hand up to gently stroke his face.

"Where am I?" He looked around bewilderedly.

"You are on Vulcan," she said in a calm, soothing voice. It was obvious that he was still struggling to make sense of things. "You are here at the Sanctuary on Mount Seleya to speak with the high priest."

Rubbing a trembling hand over his eyes, he said, "I thought Vince…"

"It was only a dream." She lightly stroked her fingers over his forehead. "You must let it go." When his face crumpled into a look of pure anguish, she put her arms around his neck and pulled him close.

He clung to her with a desperation that she found disturbing. "How can it be a dream?" he asked disconsolately. "It was so real. I could feel the water."

"Everything will be all right."

"What's the matter with me? I must be losing my mind."

She pulled back and took his face in her hands. "Nightmares are unpleasant, but they cannot hurt you. You are not in danger of losing your sanity. You must believe that." When he nodded his head she pulled him close again.

Turning his face in toward her neck, he murmured, "I can't take much more of this, T'Pol. What am I gonna do?"

As she held him, she wished that she had an answer to his question. Neuropressure should have given him an undisturbed night's sleep, but it had not. This was the third time that he had been awakened by a nightmare since they lay down together. Each time it was harder for her to awaken him. Each time it was harder for him to separate dream from reality. She knew little about mind melds, but Trip's reaction to the meld with Torok seemed to be all wrong. The memories it evoked were too vivid and lingered far too long. She decided to try to gain an audience with the high priest as soon as possible.

"Lay back, Trip."

She could feel him shake his head. "I don't want to sleep anymore."

"I know. I believe that neuropressure will help you relax."

He was quiet for a moment before finally mumbling, "Okay."

When he loosened his grip on her, she gently pushed him back down on the bed. She was still dressed only in her one-piece undergarment, so she had no difficulty throwing one leg over his body, straddling his waist. Leaning forward, she pressed down firmly on the pressure points just above his collarbones.

"You are not breathing correctly. You know the proper technique."

"Yes, ma'am," Trip responded dutifully.

T'Pol was gratified to see a hint of a smile cross his lips.

"That is better."

Just as she began to focus her attention on the pressure points behind his ears, there was a sharp rap at the door. Her eyes met and held Trip's for a moment, and then she climbed off the bed and walked across the room.

When the door swished open, a female attendant stood before her bearing a tray of food. T'Pol took the tray and carried it over to the table. Scooping up their soiled outer garments, she carried them back to the door and handed them to the thin-faced young woman with the earnest brown eyes. With a nod of her head, the attendant turned and disappeared from sight.

When the door closed and they were alone again, Trip rolled on his side and, raising his upper body, rested his weight on his left forearm. "I guess it's later than I thought," he said, casting his eyes around the windowless room. "What time is it anyway?"

"It is 0430."

He scrunched up his face in thought. "We're the guests here. Shouldn't we be the ones fixin' breakfast?"

Gratified that he was trying to understand the customs of her people, T'Pol clarified, "That rule does not apply in this instance. It is only necessary to fix breakfast for your hosts when you are in a private residence."

When T'Pol finished removing the covers from the serving dishes, she looked over at her mate. He had pushed the covers aside and was now sitting on the edge of the bed, head bowed and hands clasped firmly in front of him. She reached out to him with her mind and was disturbed by the growing sense of hopelessness she found there.

"Come and eat," she said quietly.

Reluctantly, Trip got to his feet and walked over to the table. He held the chair for T'Pol while she seated herself, and then walked over and plopped down on the chair opposite her. He looked at the food on the tray, but showed little interest in any of it.

"I believe you are familiar with everything here," she said in an effort to divert his attention away from his dream. "These are some traditional foods for

asal-yem or breakfast. Kap, pla-savas, and tei." She pointed to a plate of light brown bread made from coarse-ground flour, a square ceramic bowl filled with slices of dark blue fruit and two steaming cups of tea. "These foods have served as sustenance for my people since the early days of our civilization."

When Trip failed to respond, she picked up a glass of blue-green fruit juice and tapped his hand with it until he took it from her. "Drink this. You told me that you enjoyed the juice of the kaasa when you visited my mother's home."

Tilting his head back, he quickly drained the glass. Judging by the distant look in his eyes, she doubted that he had even tasted it.

"Would you like some more?"

Trip shook his head. "Sorry I'm not better company this morning," he said wearily, handing the glass back to her. "I'm just not hungry. Why don't you go ahead? It always makes me feel good to watch you eat."

Sighing, she put a piece of bread and a few pieces of fruit on a small plate and, reaching across the table, placed it in front of him. "Perhaps you will change your mind."

While T'Pol ate, she watched as Trip picked at the food on his plate. Finally she asked, "Would you prefer something else to eat?"

"Hmmm?"

"Trip." She waited until she knew his attention was focused on her. "You must eat. Can I get you something else that will be more to your liking?"

"No," he mumbled distractedly as his eyes slid away from her. "This is fine."

Accepting defeat, she finished her own meal. After swallowing the last bite of bread, she asked, "Who is Vince?"

When Trip looked at her, the sadness in his eyes was shattering. "He was my friend…my best friend. He drowned while we were out swimmin' together."

"I am sorry. How old were you?"

"Seventeen." He got a distant look in his eye. "Old enough to rescue someone, if I'd been payin' attention."

Without further comment, she rose and walked over to the door. Upon opening it, she found a pile of clean clothing and a Starfleet duffle bag stacked on a cart outside the door. She collected the items and deposited them on the bed. Looking over her shoulder, she said, "Captain Archer sent down a change of clothes for us."

"Okay," Tucker responded wearily.

Opening the duffle bag, she quickly located clean undergarments for herself. Pulling a gown from the pile of clean clothing, she announced, "I am going to take a shower. Perhaps you should consider getting cleaned up as well."

When he failed to respond, she turned to look at him. He sat unmoving with his eyes fixed on his plate of uneaten food. It was obvious that the nightmares had taken a greater toll on him than she had realized. She took one more look at the broken man she cared for so deeply and headed for the bathroom.

After a shower and a change of clothes, she felt refreshed. She was under no illusions that the day would be pleasant. Torok had told her as much. But now, thanks to the shower, several nighttime hours spent in meditation, and the comforting place that Trip once again occupied in her mind, she felt that she was prepared to meet whatever challenges the day might bring.

Opening the bathroom door, her eyes immediately fell on her mate. He hadn't moved from his seat, but she was pleased to see that he had eaten some of the food on his plate. Perhaps this was an indication that he was finally beginning to cast off the pall that had enveloped him since he'd awakened.

Apparently sensing her eyes on him, he looked up. "The bread's not bad, but this fruit is real good. What's it called again?"

"Pla-savas."

"Right, pla-savas. Maybe we could get Chef to keep some of it in stasis for us when we head back to _Enterprise_?"

"I think that could be arranged."

He took in the sage green gown she was wearing. "That color looks real nice on you." He gestured vaguely with one hand. "Kinda soft and feminine."

Relieved, she took a deep breath. That was more like her Trip. "Why don't you get cleaned up now? Torok may wish to see you this morning. You should be ready."

"Yeah, I guess so." He slowly pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. She handed him a clean set of underwear from the duffle bag as he passed her on his way to the bathroom. After a couple of steps, he stopped and turned back to her.

"Is there something else you require?" T'Pol asked.

"Yeah, I guess there is." She turned to face him. "I just wanted to say good morning, tell you how much I love you and give you this." Leaning forward, he placed a gentle kiss on her lips. "Thanks for stayin' with me last night," he whispered sincerely, his lips still enticingly close to hers, "and for bein' here this morning when I needed you."

"You're welcome," she answered softly and was gifted with a gentle southern smile. Giving him a quick peck on the lips, she gently but firmly pushed him towards the bathroom. "Now go wash."

When she heard the door close behind him, she marveled again at how different he was from a Vulcan male – how different he was from any man she had ever known. Her mind drifted back to the day when she'd first set foot on the starship filled with smelly, emotional humans and made the acquaintance of Commander Charles Tucker III. She had been rude to him – at least by human standards – but there was no denying that there was something unique about him, a spark she had never felt before or since with another living being. It was disconcerting and she had run from it. Now she knew better. Silently, she reaffirmed her pledge never to turn her back on him again.

While Trip showered, she put on her robes and laid out a clean suit and robes for him. With the completion of her task, she took a few moments for herself, allowing her fingers to play lightly over the fabric of the suit. Slowly her thoughts turned to her father, the rock that had anchored the early years of her life.

From the very beginning, her father had appreciated her curious, agile mind. At night, they often shared time together staring up at the sky, discussing distant celestial bodies and carefully considering the secrets that each might hold. When he was not busy attending to his duties with the Vulcan Diplomatic Corps, her father challenged her by giving her interesting problems to solve. In doing so, he taught her to use her creativity, to be organized and thorough, and, on occasion, to contemplate ideas that were not universally accepted, even though this often went against her mother's wishes.

He'd understood that it was a struggle for her to keep her emotions rigidly under control, and yet he had not reproached her. Instead, he'd spent countless hours with her, teaching her how to meditate, honing her skills. Reflecting back, she realized that when he died, she'd lost more than just a father. She'd lost the only person who had ever truly understood and treasured her – until now.

When Trip entered her life, he challenged her to see the wonders all around her, much as her father had. He asked her to look beyond the stuffy explanations of uninspired men and consider the countless possibilities yet to be explored. He did not scold her when her control weakened, but was instead understanding and eager to help in any way he could. He was patient with her. He was her staunchest supporter. And he loved her unconditionally, even when she gave him every reason to turn away. For these reasons and countless more, she chose to honor Trip by granting him a special niche in her heart right next to the place she reverently reserved for her father.

A knock on the door brought her out of her reverie. Thinking it was the attendant come to collect the breakfast dishes, she picked the tray up and headed toward the door. When the door slid open, she was momentarily taken aback to see Ambassador Soval standing before her.

"T'Pol, I need to speak with you." His eyes scanned the room behind her. "Where is Commander Tucker?"

"He's in the bathroom."

Soval nodded. "Perhaps it is just as well."

"Is something wrong? Is there a problem with the conference?"

He took the tray from her and set it on the empty cart outside the door. "I would like you to come with me. There is a situation that requires…"

Before he could explain further, the bathroom door opened and Trip emerged in a clean set of Starfleet-issue underwear. He was vigorously rubbing a towel over his wet hair. As soon as he saw Soval, he came to abrupt halt. "Mornin', Ambassador." A concerned look passed over his face. It was obvious that he was uncertain what to make of Soval's presence.

"Commander, I hope you are feeling better today."

"Thanks, I'm fine." Trip tossed the damp towel on the bed and looked from one Vulcan face to the other. "Is there somethin' goin' on that I oughta know about?"

"Ambassador Soval wishes to speak with me," T'Pol said reassuringly. "I will return shortly."

Trip regarded them warily, but didn't offer any resistance. "Okay. I'll be here if you need me." He glanced down at the clothes laid out on the bed and did a double take. "Where's my uniform?"

"There was only underwear in the bag," T'Pol answered truthfully. "It would seem that the person who packed it forgot to include a clean uniform."

"Not likely." Trip scowled as he looked Soval up and down. The ambassador was wearing a floor-length belted beige tunic under his sienna robes. "At least my getup has pants," Tucker grumbled. "I guess I should be thankful for small favors."

"Please get dressed," T'Pol said calmly. "I will return in a few minutes and we can spend some time in meditation." Without waiting for a response, she turned toward the door. Stepping aside, Soval motioned for her to precede him.

"I take it that Commander Tucker is still not completely comfortable in Vulcan clothing," Soval observed as they walked down the corridor.

"The adjustment has been trying for him, but he is making progress."

"You two seem to have resolved your differences."

"We no longer wish to sever our bond." T'Pol looked over at the ambassador. "Why did you wish to see me?"

"Admiral Kiran is here."

T'Pol came to an abrupt halt. She carefully schooled her features to appear calm, but inside, her emotions were in turmoil. "What does he want?"

Soval stopped and turned to face her. "He knows that you and Commander Tucker are here…together. He wants to know why. I do not believe he intends to go away until he is convinced that he knows the truth."

"And then what?"

"You know the threats he has made. The man is capable of anything."

T'Pol pressed her lips into a thin line as she struggled to find a way out of this new dilemma. Try as she might she could think of no quick or easy solution.

"I care for Commander Tucker," she finally said with a trace of huskiness in her voice. "I will not abandon him again."

"I am not suggesting that you should."

"But the conference with the humans is vital to the long-term safety of our people. I cannot allow the admiral to place Vulcan's future in jeopardy because of us." She looked entreatingly at Soval. "What should I do?"

"For the moment, do nothing." He started forward again, and she followed along. "Let's hear what the admiral has to say. There is always a chance that he will listen to reason."

T'Pol did not answer because there was nothing she could say. She knew the odds were against them. She had met Admiral Kiran several times in the past, and she had not been impressed. He was a man who prided himself on his grasp of logic even though there was often nothing logical in the ideas he espoused. He appeared to be incapable of seeing the needs of the many, only his own petty wants and desires. What chance did she and Trip have against a man like that?

As they approached the main reception room, one voice rose above the others. There was an edge to it that did not inspire confidence. Apparently the admiral was in a confrontational frame of mind this morning.

T'Pol hung back, but when Soval reached the doorway, he stepped aside and motioned for her to enter first. Since it was pointless to try and avoid the inevitable, she lifted her chin and sailed into the room.

The main reception room was furnished with carved obsidian appointments, including six angular benches which lined the walls and a large oval table with eight matching high-backed chairs which stood at the center of the room. Overhead, a natural fissure in the stone allowed light to flood the room, tingeing the walls and polished stone floor with a citrine hue. A wide hand-carved band of ancient Vulcan symbols ringed the room four feet from the base of the walls. In many places, the ancient chisel marks were still visible on the walls, a silent tribute to the Vulcan workmen who had, countless centuries ago, carved the Sanctuary from the rocks and caverns of Mount Seleya.

The first face T'Pol saw was Torok's, with its hawkish nose and well-defined cheek bones. The elderly man was seated at the head of the oval table. Their eyes met, and in that instant she was sure that he would help her.

"Sub-Commander T'Pol."

The authoritative voice brought her up short. Thankful for Soval's steadying presence beside her, she looked to the right of the table and saw Admiral Kiran standing next to a petite Vulcan woman with short black hair. With his steel grey hair and broad shoulders, there was no question that the admiral was an imposing figure. He was tall, with the puffed out chest and rigid stance of a man who was fully aware of his own importance. It was his misfortune that his carefully groomed features spoke more of self-indulgence than strength of character.

Straightening her shoulders, T'Pol stated firmly, "Admiral, you were present yesterday when the delegation from Starfleet was introduced. You know that my correct title is commander. I would appreciate being addressed properly."

"Commander T'Pol," Kiran responded derisively. His pinched features clearly showed his disapproval. "You dare to show your face here at the Sanctuary. Have you no shame? Once again you have deserted your own people."

"You are mistaken, Admiral," T'Pol contradicted him in a carefully controlled voice. "I have never turned my back on Vulcan or her people. I take great pride in my heritage."

"A Vulcan does not belong in Starfleet. You have debased yourself by choosing to live among humans." He spat out the last word as though it was an obscenity.

"If you will recall, Admiral, I was ordered to serve on _Enterprise_ by the High Command."

"The High Command did not order you to remain on _Enterprise_ when the humans went into the Expanse," Kiran answered icily. "That was your decision. In doing so, you turned your back on your family and your culture."

"The Xindi and the Sphere Builders posed a threat to Vulcan as well as to Earth. By going into the Expanse, I was protecting my family and my culture." T'Pol quickly glanced over at Torok who gave her an almost imperceptible nod of encouragement.

Despite his outer appearance of calm, the admiral's face was becoming slightly flushed. "The Vulcan fleet and the High Command did not see the Xindis as a threat. The Andorians are our enemies, and you allowed them access to classified information at the P'Jem Monastery. That, Commander, is betrayal. That is treason."

"Our covert surveillance station at the monastery was there in violation of our treaty with the Andorians. We were in the wrong, not the Andorians or the humans."

T'Pol took several steps forward and locked eyes with the admiral. "It is illogical to dredge up the past for no useful purpose. It is also illogical to wait one full day to express your dissatisfaction with my affiliation with Starfleet. Something else is bothering you, Admiral. What is it?"

"That is very perceptive of you, Commander T'Pol. You are quite correct." Kiran motioned towards the woman standing next to him. "Minister T'Lan and I have come to investigate reports of another in a long series of acts of misconduct on your part. This time it is an act of the grossest perversion."

T'Pol steeled herself for the storm she knew was about to come crashing down on her.

"Word has come to us that you are consorting with a human. We demand to know if this allegation is true."

Soval shifted restlessly beside her. "Admiral Kiran," he said in a measured voice, "your behavior is most unseemly. I suggest that you…"

"Stay out of this, Soval," Kiran snapped. "This matter does not concern you."

"Nor does it concern you, Admiral," Torok added calmly. "Commander T'Pol does not have to answer to you. Nor does she have to reveal details of her personal life. Your questions are not only inappropriate but distasteful."

The admiral walked over to the table and stood gripping the back of one of the chairs. Towering over the seated Torok, he looked disdainfully down at him. "As high priest, you are the guardian of our culture, and yet you shelter this woman who has wantonly produced a child with a human."

"That child was not of her body," Torok replied. "It was a cruel act perpetrated by terrorists."

"It was her child nonetheless. Ask her. She will not deny it." Kiran turned to face T'Pol, pointing a finger at her. "Will you deny that half-breed child was yours? Will you deny that you are at present sharing a room with…"

"That half-breed child's name was Elizabeth."

T'Pol spun around and saw Trip standing rigidly in the doorway. Sensing his anger, she moved quickly to intercept him.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered upon reaching him.

His gaze remained locked on Kiran. "You were putting out some pretty strong vibes. I knew that something was upsetting you." He gestured with his chin. "I take it that something is the admiral. You should have told me when Soval came to get you. It's pretty obvious that this concerns me just as much as it does you."

Moving slightly so that her body screened her actions from the others in the room, she raised her hand and lightly placed it on Trip's chest. "Please let me handle this. There is much at stake here, and you are already under a great deal of stress."

"I don't understand. What seems to be the problem?"

"The admiral is distressed that we are here together." She hesitated and then decided to continue. Her mate had a right to know the gravity of the situation. "He is threatening to call a halt to the joint talks with Starfleet."

"Because of us?" Trip looked at her in utter disbelief. "That's crazy."

"Keep your voice down." T'Pol cast a quick look over her left shoulder. "If you will return to our room, I will join you as soon as I can. Please, Trip, do this for me." When he brought his hand up to cover hers, she looked for acquiescence in his eyes. What she saw instead was only grim determination.

"Will you join us, Commander Tucker?" Torok called from across the room.

T'Pol closed her eyes and sighed in defeat. It was obvious that Trip had every intention of taking Torok up on his invitation. Why did the high priest have to interfere? She knew that she could have persuaded Trip to leave if she had only been given a little more time.

Apparently sensing her unease, Trip murmured, "It'll be all right, T'Pol. I promise to behave myself." Without another word, he cupped his right hand inconspicuously under her left elbow and led her into the chamber.

Trip stopped next to Soval and, after giving him a quick nod of recognition, raised his left hand with the middle and ring fingers forming a V. "Live long and prosper."

"Peace and long life." Torok finished the traditional greeting when it became apparent that his other Vulcan guests intended to remain silent. "It is good to see you, Commander Tucker. I believe you have already met Admiral Kiran and Minister T'Lan."

"Admiral. Minister." Trip nodded in recognition.

"Where is this man's uniform?" Kiran asked with enough chill in his voice to freeze a river. "He has no right to wear Vulcan robes."

"I requested that Commander Tucker wear Vulcan attire while he visited the Sanctuary," Torok said, clearly tiring of the admiral's bullying tactics.

"Why is he here? Since he stayed overnight, he is obviously more than just a casual tourist. What business could a human have at one of our most sacred shrines?"

Torok looked over at Trip.

"With all due respect, Admiral," Trip said firmly, "I don't think that's any of your business."

"I know how important this conference is to the humans. You would not be here unless you felt the need was urgent." Kiran's gaze traveled from Trip to T'Pol. "You may wish to keep your improprieties a secret, Commander Tucker, but if this woman has allowed you to use her body to satisfy your carnal desires, I think it is our business."

T'Pol grabbed Trip's arm as he took a step forward, his eyes flashing in anger. Before Tucker could respond to the admiral's insults, Torok thumped his cane forcefully against the floor. Ignoring the warning, Trip continued to glare at Kiran. When Torok brought his cane down once again, Trip spun around and fixed his eyes squarely on the high priest. No words were exchanged, but judging by the stern look on Torok's face, T'Pol was sure that Trip got the message: any emotional outbursts were unacceptable. Pressing his lips together, Trip took several deep breaths. After a few moments he gave Torok a brisk nod and turned his attention back to the two inquisitors.

"You can say anything you want about me, Admiral," Trip said in a tightly controlled voice, "but I ask that you treat Commander T'Pol with respect. She's a lady and deserves to be treated as such."

In the silence of the moment, T'Pol noticed that T'Lan was looking at Tucker a little more carefully. There was a shrewd gleam in her eye that T'Pol had not seen before.

The two men stood with their eyes locked on one another. Finally Admiral Kiran cleared his throat and looked away.

"Is this really the type of creature you want, T'Pol?" Kiran said, motioning toward Tucker. "A human who is incapable of controlling himself? It is no wonder that Koss chose to end his marriage to you."

Trip's eyes bored into the admiral, but he didn't rise to the bait a second time.

Given the situation, T'Pol saw no reason to comment on Koss or her ill-fated marriage. That was in the past. Her only thoughts now centered on her need to protect Trip. "Commander Tucker's reasons for visiting the Sanctuary are personal," she said firmly. "Torok has graciously consented to speak with him. There is nothing more that needs to be said."

For the first time, Minister T'Lan entered the conversation. A petite woman of middle years, she had a delicate heart-shaped face with straight black hair set against porcelain skin. Her eyes and mouth were small and her nose turned up pixie-like at the end, but there was nothing in her demeanor that hinted at fragility or weakness of any kind. She was clearly a woman of great intelligence and resolve. Under other circumstances, T'Pol imagined that Trip might have found her attractive…but not today.

"I appreciate your desire for privacy, Commander T'Pol," T'Lan said in a soft, high-pitched voice, "but you must understand that any report of a bond between a Vulcan and a human must be taken seriously."

"A bond, ma'am?" Trip asked innocently.

Turning her attention to Tucker, she replied, "Your departure from the conference was unexpected, Commander. When you did not return, inquiries were made. We were told that you and T'Pol journeyed here to sever your bond." T'Lan tilted her head to one side. "Do you deny it?"

"I am staying here to try to resolve some personal problems that have been bothering me for a long time, ma'am," Trip said patiently. "Ambassador Soval suggested that Torok might be able to help me."

"That is a lie," Kiran stated assuredly. "Humans do not come to Vulcans for help. It is pointless for you to try and conceal your transgressions. We will question the priests and priestesses, Commander. They will tell us the truth if you refuse to answer."

"You will not." Torok glared at the admiral. "This is a sacred place. Words spoken here are said in confidence. Is that understood?"

When Kiran failed to respond, T'Lan said smoothly, "We will not have to question anyone. It is obvious that these two are bonded." She motioned toward Trip. "Commander Tucker came to this chamber because he perceived that his mate was in jeopardy. There is no point in denying it."

"I don't have to deny it," Trip replied bluntly. "I'm under no obligation to respond to your accusations. But regardless of what is or isn't true, I don't understand why you regard me as a threat." He looked over at T'Pol who stood quietly beside him. "Commander T'Pol and I only want what is best for both our peoples. That's why we look forward to participating in the strategic talks when Ambassador V'Lar arrives day after tomorrow."

Slowly, T'Lan walked forward, hands hidden within her sleeves. She stopped when she was within a yard of Tucker and looked up at him. "Humans are weaker, less advanced and live much shorter lives than Vulcans. For our safety and security, we must remain strong. We must keep our race pure. Surely, in light of the threat posed by the Andorians, you can see the logic of our position, Commander."

For a split second T'Pol saw the pain in Trip's eyes, but then it vanished. She hoped that it had gone unnoticed by T'Lan. They had to be careful not to display any weaknesses that could be exploited.

"I know that we can't match your strength or longevity," Trip said quietly, "but humans just might have some other positive attributes. You might want to think on that for awhile, ma'am."

"Your supposition is flawed, Mr. Tucker." T'Lan continued to press her point. "It is a fact that your child barely lived for six months. Surely you can understand why we would not look favorably on any union between a human and a Vulcan."

T'Pol knew that T'Lan's blow had been telling for both her and Trip. Nevertheless, she felt a sense of pride that he had showed no emotion, even though she knew that the mention of Elizabeth's death was tearing him apart inside.

Steeling herself, T'Pol countered, "You cannot use Elizabeth as a true measure. The terrorists who created our child included a flaw in her genetic code, ensuring that she would not survive infancy. No one knows what the true strengths or weaknesses of a child born to a Vulcan and human couple might be."

For one irrational moment T'Pol considered telling them about Lorian, but she quickly realized that she treasured the memory of her son far too much to share it with these narrow-minded people. He clearly combined the best traits of both of his parents. At that moment, she felt Trip's hand brush against hers, and she knew instantly that he, too, was thinking about the son they had known for such a brief time.

"Our child," Admiral Kiran huffed contemptuously. "That creature was a crime against nature."

The admiral left the table and bore down on Trip and T'Pol. Soval tried to intercept him, but Kiran stiffly motioned him away. "You do not need to offer any explanations, T'Lan. Humans are a lower life form. Perhaps at some time in the distant future, when they have learned reason and discipline, we might look upon them with more favor, but I seriously doubt that day will ever come. We cannot allow our race to be infected by their emotionalism. We, as a people, have worked too hard to distance ourselves from the savages that once roamed this planet."

Trip continued to hold his head up, but T'Pol could feel his weariness and disillusionment. They'd been through this all before, and somehow it never got any easier. Whether the words came from Vulcans or humans, they wounded with equal force. She and Trip weren't criminals. They weren't trying to alter cultures or bring down governments. They were just two people trying to find a way to live together in peace.

Suddenly, in her mind she heard his voice as clearly as if he had spoken aloud. "I'm sorry for this, T'Pol, but I not sorry for lovin' you. There must be somewhere we can go and make a life for ourselves."

Unaware of the couple's unspoken thoughts, Kiran continued his attack. "The possibility of a half-human child would deliver us back to the days of violence before Vulcans embraced logic. We cannot allow that. I will do everything in my power to see that no Vulcan – man or woman – threatens the future of our species by joining with a barbarian."

"Those are strong words, Admiral," T'Lan said, her eyes riveted on the pale face of Commander Tucker, "but what if the deed is already done?"

TBC


	26. Chapter 26

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

I would also like to thank everyone who has read the chapters I've posted. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review them.

CHAPTER 26: TOROK

Torok did not suffer fools lightly, but Admiral Kiran was his guest and proprieties must be observed. The high priest sighed inwardly and pressed one hand against his temple. It was indeed a pity that he could not banish the admiral from his sight, even though such punishment was well deserved.

Perhaps there was something to be said for human forthrightness. He had seen the look in Commander Tucker's eyes. Given the chance, the young man would have spelled out his feelings in no uncertain terms and then had the admiral forcibly evicted from the premises, if necessary. Torok closed his eyes for a moment of quiet contemplation. The mental image of Kiran being ushered out of the reception room was something to be savored.

All too soon, the grating sound of the admiral's voice forced the high priest to abandon his thoughts. Opening his eyes, he looked across the reception room from his position at the head of the large oval table. Unfortunately, the scene had not changed. Kiran and T'Lan still had their backs to him as they continued to rebuke the two commanders. An egregious breach of etiquette, Torok mused absently. Soval stood helplessly nearby, a frown on his face. Commander T'Pol, clearly visible behind the smaller body of Minister T'Lan, appeared to be suitably composed.

Only Commander Tucker, positioned as he was behind Kiran's bulky frame, remained hidden from view. The high priest shifted in his chair as he tried to get a better view. He could only hope that he had not misjudged the young man. It was vital that the human bear up under the intense pressure, even though the memories of past tragedies had already stretched his emotional stability to the limit. He had to be strong. He had to remain under control. A great deal was riding on him.

Kiran's voice was growing louder. "The possibility of a half human child would deliver us back to the days of violence before Vulcans embraced logic. We can not allow that. I will do everything in my power to see that no Vulcan – man or woman – threatens the future of our species by joining with a barbarian."

Why must Kiran always resort to pointless histrionics? Torok sat back in his chair, shaking his head dismissively. It was just this sort of intolerance that must be purged from Vulcan society. The future safety of their people depended upon building close alliances with alien races, not driving them away. Torok understood that Kiran would never be able to accept that. His prejudices ran too deep. But the high priest had expected more from T'Lan. She was an intelligent, perceptive woman. It made little sense for her to align herself first with V'Las and now with Kiran, two narrow-minded, bigoted men.

T'Lan's voice intruded on his thoughts. "Those are strong words, Admiral, but what if the deed is already done?"

Torok had had enough of this. Catching Soval's eye, he tapped his index finger on the gleaming black tabletop.

Soval nodded. The high priest knew that the ambassador, always the quick and willing pupil, would immediately understand his wishes.

"Admiral, Minister T'Lan, since Torok was good enough to grant your request for an audience, it is illogical to exclude him." Soval motioned towards the table. "Why don't we join him and we can continue this…discussion."

Kiran, his face slightly flushed, turned to face Torok. The challenge in his eyes was unmistakable, but he held his tongue.

"It was not our intention to exclude you from the conversation, Torok," T'Lan said smoothly. She glanced at the admiral before continuing. "Humans lack our self-control. We felt sure that if we confronted Commander Tucker, his face would betray his guilt."

"And did you see any guilt?" Torok asked sternly.

"The commander is clearly hiding something."

"That is not the same as guilt, Minister. The personal problems that Commander Tucker spoke of are very real. And with humans, there is always the possibility that looks can be deceiving."

T'Pol walked quietly over to the table and stopped by the chair on Torok's right. Trip helped her to be seated and then took the chair next to her. The high priest was gratified to see that both of them seemed to be holding up in the face of Kiran's harangue.

"Minister T'Lan." Soval once again gestured toward the table with its eight matching chairs. "Admiral, if you please."

T'Lan nodded to the ambassador and complied with his wishes. Torok was interested to see that she did not take the chair immediately to his left, but chose instead to sit across from the human.

Kiran hesitated for only a split second before taking the chair directly opposite the high priest. When Soval sat on Torok's left, it left the admiral in sole possession of far end of the table.

Snorting silently, Torok gripped the head of his cane more firmly with his left hand. He was not surprised by Kiran's choice. Every decision, every action, every breath that man took was a grab for power.

"All right, Torok," Kiran said coldly, "we are all seated in accordance with your wishes, but the situation remains unchanged." He pointed a finger at the two commanders. "We deserve an answer. Are those two involved in an illicit relationship? Did they come here to sever a bond?"

Torok looked first at T'Pol, who sat motionless, her eyes fixed on some point off in the distance, and then over to Tucker. It was apparent from his knitted brow and clenched jaw that the commander was struggling to find a way to answer to the admiral's question. While he pondered, the young man absently moved one finger, tracing slow, deliberate circles on the tabletop.

"Well," Kiran challenged. The admiral's face was cold and unyielding, but there was righteous indignation in his eyes.

Suddenly the finger stopped moving. Tucker folded both hands on the table and focused his attention on Kiran. "Admiral, it's obvious that you've already made up your mind. Since there's nothing that T'Pol or I can say that will alter that fact, it's pointless for us to try. So let's just assume that a bond does exist between the two of us and move forward from there."

Torok was satisfied with Tucker's response. Instead of an argument, the young man had produced a logical response to Kiran's challenge without actually admitting to anything. Perhaps all was not lost.

"It's your move, Admiral," Trip said firmly.

Kiran glanced in T'Pol's direction. "Didn't that woman inform you of my intentions?"

"Why don't you fill me in?"

The admiral drew himself up and folded his hands on the table in front of him, matching Tucker. They looked remarkably like two warriors preparing to do battle.

"I intend to bring an end to the strategic talks with the humans. I have more than enough influence in the Council to make that happen. Vulcans will not deal with creatures that are bent on subverting our culture."

"In the face of the Romulan threat, it makes no sense to break off the talks," Tucker countered. "Starfleet is only interested in trying to find ways to work together with Vulcans. Subverting your culture is the farthest thing from our minds."

"Glib assurances come easily to you, Commander, but they will do you no good. It is your indiscretions that have created a diplomatic incident – you and your Vulcan concubine. You have no one to blame for the termination of the talks but yourselves."

The anxiety in T'Pol's eyes was barely perceptible, but Tucker left no question as to his feelings. The tightly compressed lips and rigid set of his features clearly conveyed his anger. For a few tense moments, Torok was concerned that the young man might lose control of himself, but then he noticed the look of steely determination on the commander's face.

After taking a moment to collect himself, Tucker fired back. "Excuse me, sir, but I think you've got that wrong." Kiran raised an eyebrow questioningly. "T'Pol and I aren't the problem. The only person endangering Vulcan is you, sir."

In that instant, all eyes turned toward Tucker.

"That is the sort of response I would expect from a human." Kiran looked down his nose at Tucker. "Your kind runs from responsibility. Someone else must always be at fault. That will not work this time. This time you will be held accountable."

"I don't think you understand, sir," Trip stated firmly. "I'm not trying to avoid responsibility. In this case it's pretty plain that the danger to Vulcan – and to Earth – lies, not in our actions, but in yours. To put it bluntly, I think you're being played, Admiral."

"Played." Kiran scowled as he looked for help from those seated around the table. "I do not understand. Speak plainly, human."

"Someone is trying to use you to sabotage the conference."

The silence in the room was absolute.

Torok leaned back in his chair, thoughts swirling through his head.

With a wary glance in Kiran's direction, Soval finally broke the silence. "Commander Tucker, that is a serious accusation. Where is your proof?"

"He has no proof," Kiran hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. "This is an outrage." The admiral slowly rose to his feet and leaned forward, his arms rigidly braced against the tabletop. "How dare you call me a saboteur? You cannot divert me with your lies. You must answer for what you have done."

"Wake up, Admiral," Trip said sharply. "There's too much at stake here. Look at the facts. The last time Vulcan agreed to explore joint missions with Starfleet, a bomb exploded in our embassy and a lot of good people died. Now here we are again. Another conference and another lost opportunity. I don't think that's a coincidence."

"That is nothing but pure speculation, Commander," T'Lan said. She looked pointedly at the admiral, and he grudgingly sat back down. "I do not believe that the tragedy at the United Earth Embassy has anything to do with the present situation. Admiral Kiran is only trying to protect Vulcan and her people."

"Some outside force is trying to destabilize this entire quadrant. That's a fact, ma'am, not speculation. Keeping Vulcans and humans apart is only the first step. Eventually, the people behind this are going to try and break up the Coalition. We can't let that happen."

Instantly, Trip turned his attention to the admiral. "Be honest with us, sir. Who gave you the idea to use T'Pol and me as an excuse to cancel the talks?"

Kiran sat motionless. His rigid features gave no hint of any inner turmoil, but Torok noted that his breathing seemed to be slightly accelerated.

"I will not be questioned by a human," the admiral said in a voice as brittle as a sheet of glass.

"I mean no disrespect, sir. This is nothing personal."

"I think it is very personal. You just implied that I am weak – a pawn to be used at whim by other people. I would not accept that from a Vulcan. I certainly will not tolerate such abuse from an uncouth savage."

Tucker gritted his teeth and looked over at Torok. The high priest could see at once that the young man's self-control was stretched to the limit. There was a slightly redder cast to his features and one hand clutched the other so tightly that it seemed only a matter of time before bones would fracture under the strain. Torok understood the impulsive and sometimes explosive nature of this young man. It had been unfair to place him in an alien world, subject him to the vitriol Kiran spewed out with every breath, and then expect him to behave as a Vulcan would.

"Admiral, I do not believe that it was Commander Tucker's intention to question your character," Torok stated quietly. "But this is a serious situation. I think we should listen to what he has to say." Kiran drew himself up to protest, but Torok motioned him to be silent. "Our duty to protect Vulcan must take precedence over any personal considerations. Continue, young man."

Trip leaned back in his chair and visibly tried to force himself to relax. Torok was pleased to see that he was using the proper breathing techniques, probably another example of T'Pol's influence over the young human.

"Okay, let's look at this logically," Tucker began. Vulcan eyebrows rose as soon as the words left his mouth, but he appeared to take no notice. "We know why this is happening. Whoever is doing this wants to disrupt the talks. We know how. That's where Admiral Kiran comes in. We know where and when. It's pretty obvious that it's here and now. That leaves us with who. Who wants to end the talks and destabilize this region of space? I doubt that the Andorians could get close enough to do this kind of damage. I think we can eliminate them. It's too subtle for the Klingons. And there is no evidence to suggest that it's one of our Coalition partners. That leaves the Romulans. They're sneaky bastards, and we know they're lookin' for trouble."

Trip's eyes roamed around the table. "But I don't think we can stop there. We may need to look a little closer to home. After all, Soval proved that it was Stel, the henchman of Administrator V'Las, who planted the bomb in our embassy."

"That information was obtained through a mind meld," T'Lan said frostily. "It has no standing in law."

"That may be the case," Tucker countered, "but it doesn't mean that it isn't true. V'las wasn't just trying to wipe out the Syrannites. He was preparing to start a war with Andoria. You know that as well as I do, Admiral. You were the Fleet Commander. You gave the order to the Vulcan ships."

"The Andorians have threatened the security of Vulcan for far too long," Kiran said forcefully. "You humans should not have interfered. Our ships should not have been called back."

"A war with Andoria would have done nothing but drain your resources and divide your people. Can't you see that V'Las was getting ready to hand the Romulans a great big present: a country weakened by war and internal strife?"

"That is absurd," Kiran responded firmly. "You are suggesting that V'Las was working with the Romulans."

"I guess I am." For a split second, Trip looked slightly confused. He raised one hand and scrubbed it distractedly over his forehead before continuing. "The bombing…weakened ties…with Starfleet and Earth, effectively isolating Vulcan. That gave V'Las a free hand to launch an unprovoked attack on the Andorian ships. Why? Vulcans aren't conquerors. You have no territorial ambitions?"

"You have a point, Commander," Soval said pensively, "but to assume that this could be connected to the Romulans…" He shook his head. "That is too great a leap in logic."

"But consider those events in light of what's happened since then," Tucker continued. When he looked at the commander, Torok could almost hear the cry of the sehlat stalking his prey. "After the discovery of the Kir'Shara, V'Las was removed from power. There was no war. The Romulans had to find another way to weaken Vulcan's defenses. What could be better than dismantling the Vulcan fleet? Somebody had to give the order that left only a handful of ships with their full crews. Was it T'Pau? Minister Kuvak? Or was it you, Admiral?"

"Are you accusing me of being a Romulan spy?"

"No, sir. I just asked a question. Did you issue the order?"

"I have nothing to hide." Kiran lifted his chin. "Yes, it was done on my order. A fringe group had just seized power and disbanded the High Command. It was logical to assume that this new government could not be trusted. Without the fleet at full strength, these interlopers would be prevented from doing anything reckless."

"Like chasing after a Romulan drone ship," Tucker commented dryly.

"Exactly." Kiran's voice was firm, but he suddenly looked a bit uncomfortable. "Even without the change in government, it was clear that our fleet was disorganized. I kept enough ships in service to protect our planet and…yes…I ordered the rest to stand down temporarily. Certain individuals had to be relieved of their duties. They could no longer be trusted. Others no longer wished to serve. They were suddenly more interested in studying the Kir'Shara than in defending their world. I did what was necessary."

"And no one influenced your decision?" Tucker pressed.

"Of course not. I do not need others to tell me my duty."

"In retrospect, Admiral, it would appear that your decision was ill-considered." T'Lan sat with her back rigid, her posture impeccable. "Commander Tucker is correct. You had barely issued the order for the majority of our fleet to stand down when the Romulans decided to test their drone ship. I find it hard to believe that that is merely a coincidence."

"I concur," T'Pol said, her voice was tight, her words clipped. "When Captain Archer asked for our help, Vulcan was able to send only 23 ships. In order to acquire the fleet of 128 ships needed to track down the drone ship, he was forced to rely on the Andorians and Tellarites – two peoples who had never worked together. He could have easily failed to gain their cooperation. Where would that have left us? How long would it have been before Romulan drone ships infested this entire quadrant?"

"It is not my actions that are open to question. These two…people are the disruptive force." Kiran glared first at Tucker and T'Pol, and then allowed his eyes to move from face to face around the table. "I took decisive action in a time of political upheaval. There is no logic in looking for conspiracies where none exist. We know our enemy. It is the Andorians. They want to subvert our government, not the Romulans. The Romulans are our brothers."

"That is enough, Admiral." Torok thumped his cane forcefully against the stone floor. "Be careful what you say." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tucker's head snap to attention.

The high priest immediately caught Soval's eye. They both knew that Kiran had a one-track mind, and it was now focused solely on defending his honor. He could quickly become a danger to them all. If the admiral's indiscretions continued, they would have to take action.

Their concern was immediately justified when Tucker asked, "What do you mean 'brothers'?"

Fortunately, Kiran bulled ahead, completely ignoring the human. "V'Las understood the true threat, but he was forced from power. We must be prepared to fight the Andorians. They had access to the Xindi weapon. It is only a matter of time before they attack. They are constantly probing us, testing our defenses."

"And yet you weakened our fleet in the face of such a threat," Soval responded in a measured voice.

"Do not twist my words, Soval. I see what you are trying to do. I will not allow you to discredit me. I will…"

"Admiral," Torok said firmly, "you must be still."

"I must defend myself against these baseless…"

"No." Torok held up one hand, palm forward. When he was sure he had the admiral's full attention he continued. "Take a moment, Kiran, and think about what has been said here." The admiral tried to brush the words aside, but the high priest would not back down. "For once, see things as they are, not as others have led you to believe. The threat to our people is very real. It is the Romulans we must guard against. You cannot deny that there may be some truth in what Commander Tucker has said."

The admiral started to say something in rebuttal, but after catching sight of T'Lan's withering gaze, he closed his mouth again. A moment later he straightened his shoulders and said calmly, "I did what I had to do. Whether you approve of my actions is irrelevant. I acted in the best interests of Vulcan. I will continue to do so until I am relieved of my command. If the Romulans pose a threat – and I am not yet convinced of that fact – I will fight them with every weapon at my disposal."

"All we ask, Kiran, is that you open your mind to the possibilities," Torok said conciliatorily.

"I know you think that I am a blind fool, but I am perceptive enough to realize what will happen if it becomes common knowledge that these two are bonded. I won't have to cancel the conference. Most of our delegates will simply walk out. Such a relationship is unacceptable."

"But if you don't plant that idea in…"

"Excuse me," Trip interrupted Soval, "but I think I can save us all a little time. Admiral, I think it's pretty clear to everyone here that the strategic talks must take place. T'Pol and I will do whatever is necessary to see that that happens." He turned toward T'Pol. Her only response was a subtle nod of her head. Reaching into his robe, Trip pulled out a padd. He held it for a moment, and then pushed it across the table to Torok. "This contains our resignations from Starfleet. We're prepared to step down effective immediately."

The high priest glanced at the padd and pushed it over to Soval. After looking at it, he, in turn, passed it along to T'Lan.

"It is as he said," she informed Kiran after carefully reviewing the text on the padd. "This contains both of their resignations." She looked over to Tucker. "How convenient. Tell me, Commander, do you always carry your resignation on your person?"

"No, ma'am." Trip's eyes dropped to the table. "But…this time it was important for me to keep it close."

"I see. On a whim, you and Commander T'Pol decided to resign at the same time. When did this pact of yours take place?"

"It's not a pact, ma'am. T'Pol and I talked briefly yesterday. We discovered that we've both been thinking about leaving Starfleet. She's missed living on Vulcan. I've been considering several other job offers. She left the padd with her resignation in my room. It sounded like a good idea, so this morning I added my own. My intent was to resign when the strategic talks concluded, but I'm prepared to leave now."

"As am I," T'Pol said. "Will that satisfy you, Admiral?"

Torok was surprised when Kiran hesitated. He personally found this solution disturbing, but he had expected the admiral to accept it at once.

"You will not be welcome on Vulcan, T'Pol," Kiran said guardedly. "You cannot shed your shame when you remove your Starfleet uniform."

"I have done nothing to cause me to feel ashamed," T'Pol said with conviction. "Since you have our resignations, Commander Tucker and I ask only that you confirm that you will not try to prevent the talks from continuing as scheduled."

Kiran looked over to T'Lan, but she remained stone-faced. "I…will take it under consideration."

"That is not acceptable, Admiral," Torok said earnestly. "Ambassador V'Lar will arrive in two days. We need your assurances now."

T'Pol squared her shoulders. "As soon as we have your promise, Admiral, I would like to inform Captain Archer that Mr. Tucker and I have decided to resign our commissions. He will want to contact Starfleet immediately to secure our replacements."

"Just a moment." Soval leaned forward intently. "Assuming Commander Tucker's suppositions are correct, I think we all know that the Romulans will not simply accept defeat. If we thwart them now, they will only keep trying until they succeed. The commanders will have sacrificed their careers for nothing. We must discover once and for all who is doing this and how they are exerting their influence on our government."

"You make a good point, Ambassador," T'Lan said in a voice slightly higher pitched that usual. "I am inclined to agree with you. We know that the Romulans are a determined opponent. These resignations will probably accomplish nothing." The minister cast a no-nonsense look at Kiran. Grudgingly, he nodded his assent. "The talks must go ahead as scheduled." She shoved the padd across the table. "As a matter of fact, Commander Tucker, I must insist that you become an active participant."

"Me?" Clearly surprised, Trip picked up the padd and looked it over before carefully tucking it away in his robe. "Why me?"

"I cannot condone your relationship with Commander T'Pol, but as you so ably pointed out, we have greater concerns at the moment. You are surprisingly astute. And today you have demonstrated an ability to organize and communicate your thoughts in an effective manner without resorting to emotionalism. Those skills will be invaluable in the coming days."

"Thank you, but…"

"There is no need for humility, Commander. Self-effacement is lost on us. I believe that you are in possession of information that may be vital to our defense."

Tucker stared at T'Lan bewilderedly. "Ma'am?"

"You were one of the humans who boarded the Romulan drone ship." T'Lan tilted her head to one side. "That is correct, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am, but I'm not sure how much I can tell you. It wasn't exactly a sightseeing trip. Everything happened pretty fast."

"You are an engineer?"

"Chief engineer. Yes, ma'am."

"You are a highly trained and intelligent man. Surely you learned a great deal about the workings of the drone ship."

"I guess I picked up a few things. I don't know how much help they'll be to anyone though."

"Starfleet sent along a copy of the commander's report," Soval commented. "He was able to provide some technical data. Unfortunately, he was incapacitated for a portion of the time."

"Nevertheless," T'Lan said thoughtfully, "with the proper help, he will undoubtedly be able to tell us far more than he realizes."

T'Lan placed both hands on the edge of the table and pushed her chair back. "Now if there is nothing else, there are some important matters I must attend to before Ambassador V'Lar arrives." Before rising, she looked pointedly at Trip and T'Pol. "I think it goes without saying that any relationship you two are engaged in must remain a secret, at least for the foreseeable future. That is only prudent. As you said yourself, Commander Tucker, there is a great deal at stake here." 

"Minister T'Lan is correct," Kiran added stiffly. "The talks still could fail. If that happens, you will bear the responsibility, human, not me. To protect the alliance between Earth and Vulcan, no one must ever know what you have done. The decision is yours."

Trip cast an anxious glance in T'Pol's direction. "Now wait a minute. If T'Pol and I ever do decide to enter into a relationship, a few people will have to know: Captain Archer, my parents…"

"No one."

"But…"

"Those are our conditions and they are not negotiable. I will not condone or abet such a blatantly unnatural union. There are many others on Vulcan – people highly placed in our government and seats of higher learning – who share my opinion. We cannot force you to sever your bond…" Kiran raised his hand when Tucker started to protest. "…but we can demand that you remain silent."

"You have no right to make that kind of a demand on us." Trip's eyes flew around the table, desperately seeking support.

Kiran sat back in his chair. He once again gave every impression of being a man who was in total control. "We have every right."

"This seems rather extreme," Soval said quietly. "Surely it would do no harm…"

"They tell two people. Those two people, in turn, tell two people. Before long their secret is common gossip on both worlds."

"But in time, our people may become more tolerant, more enlightened," Soval countered.

"Vulcans are slow to embrace change. For acceptance to occur, humans will first have to prove themselves worthy. You and I will not see that in our lifetimes, Ambassador." 

While he weighed his options, Torok lightly brushed the fingers of one hand back and forth over the tabletop. He understood the young man's desperation. It was always difficult to have the course of one's life determined by others. Vulcans were accustomed to it. They were rigorously taught acceptance from early childhood. Humans, unfortunately, still continued to cling to the unrealistic ideal of self-determination.

"Do we have your promise to remain silent, Commander Tucker?" T'Lan asked. "We do not ask this lightly. We are aware of the sacrifice that you will be making."

Trip turned beseechingly to the high priest. Torok knew what the commander wanted him to say, but he could not. As much as he disliked admitting it, in this instance Kiran and T'Lan were correct. Word would get out, and the damage such a revelation would cause could be significant. The young man must be patient. Before their relationship could be made public, the proper groundwork would first have to be laid. If the human had any hope of remaining with T'Pol, he must learn to accept. He must learn the Vulcan way.

"It will be difficult, young man," Torok said, "but you must think of the good of the many. It is possible that the futures of both our peoples rest on your shoulders today." The eyes staring back at him were two blue pools of misery and despair. "You must do what has to be done."

"Do we have your word, Commander?" T'Lan asked again.

Trip swallowed hard and slowly turned his attention to Minister T'Lan. He took one deep, ragged breath and said, "Yes, ma'am."

"T'Pol, do you agree to these terms?"

"Yes," T'Pol answered T'Lan softly.

As the two commanders stared straight ahead, Torok focused his attention on Kiran. "Will that satisfy you, Admiral?"

"It will have to do for now." Kiran got to his feet.

"What about the Romulans?" Trip asked numbly. "Are we just going to forget about them?"

"Rest assured, we will investigate," Soval answered sincerely. "I will speak with T'Pau and Kuvak. I am sure they will be very interested in your hypotheses, Commander." 

"Baseless slander. You, Commander, seek to destroy my reputation and I will not allow it," Kiran stated coldly. Turning his attention to the high priest, he said, "The next time I visit this place, I expect you to be more cooperative, Torok. You are not untouchable, you know. There are ways to have you removed from your position. Keep that in mind." After sending a final glare around the table, he announced, "I am leaving, T'Lan. I have tolerated being in the same room with a human for long enough." Without another word, the admiral turned and marched across the room and out the door.

T'Lan sighed. "Kiran is not always tactful when he feels threatened." She studied Tucker momentarily. "I underestimated you, Commander. There is definitely more to you than meets the eye. This has been a most enlightening discussion." She rose gracefully.

Almost as if by rote, Trip respectfully got to his feet. His parents had trained him well, the high priest mused.

"It has been pleasing to see you again, Torok," T'Lan said lightly. "Perhaps when we next meet there will be time to talk about more satisfying things."

"I look forward to that, Minister."

"Ambassador, Commander T'Pol, I will see you both in two days." T'Lan finished her good-byes and followed Kiran out the door.

As soon as she was gone, Trip's shoulders slumped. He slowly sat down and, leaning forward, buried his face in his hands.

"You did well, Commander," Torok said softly. He was distressed to see that Tucker's hands were shaking. It was obvious that the young man was dangerously close to losing his equilibrium. "You are to be congratulated for calling Admiral Kiran to account for his actions."

Trip dropped his hands and looked at the high priest. "I tried, but it didn't do any good. I probably just made things worse."

"We do not know that. As a matter of fact, I would imagine that Kiran has been forced to see humans in a new light today."

"Yeah," Trip muttered sadly. "Now he thinks even less of us…if that's possible."

"I promise you, Commander, that we will investigate Kiran and his associates," Soval chimed in firmly. "If he was influenced by the Romulans, we will find out. I believe that you have done Vulcan a great service."

The lines of tension in Tucker's face were clearly visible. He clutched one hand in the other to try and stop the trembling, but when that didn't seem to help, he quickly pulled both hands into his lap.

"Thanks, but I don't think I deserve all the credit." Trip focused his attention on Torok. "I've been giving this business with the Romulans a lot of thought ever since I escaped from their drone ship. Today, seeing the Admiral…well…everything just seemed to fall into place. But there were a couple of things that seemed to come out of nowhere. They didn't come from T'Pol. I know what it feels like to have her in my head. This was different. They came from you, didn't they, sir?"

Torok shifted in his chair. "It is possible. Thoughts can sometimes be shared unintentionally during a mind meld. I must admit that the Romulans have been on my mind a great deal lately."

"Unintentional or not, I appreciate the help. I just hope I haven't steered you wrong."

"Do not concern yourself, young man."

Torok turned his attention to the ambassador. "Soval, I want you to confirm that Admiral Kiran and Minister T'Lan have left the premises. If they are still here, hurry them along. I will not allow the admiral to foment any more trouble."

Soval got to his feet. "As you wish."

"When you have attended to that, I want you to find Dr. Kaal and confine him. He must not be allowed to communicate with anyone outside the Sanctuary."

"Do you think he was the one who told Kiran of the bond?" Soval asked.

"Yes. I have had my eye on Kaal for some time now. He has proved to be disloyal and dangerous. I was remiss in not removing him from the Sanctuary a long time ago. Do not harm him, but see that he obeys you."

"Yes, sir." Soval gave a quick bow and left the room.

Trip leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, T'Pol. I really made a mess of things."

She reached over and lightly touched his arm. "You should not reproach yourself. I am honored that you were willing to fight for me."

He turned his face towards her and covered her hand with his. "What kind of life can we have now? Hiding what we feel for each other…living in the shadows."

"It will serve no purpose to dwell on what has been denied us." The tenderness in T'Pol's voice clearly conveyed her regard for the young human. "All we can do is make the most of what we can still have together."

When Torok cleared his throat, the two commanders looked his way. T'Pol gently pulled her hand from Tucker's grasp and turned to face the high priest.

"Commander Tucker, I want you to return to your room and rest for a few hours. We still have much to do today, and the admiral's visit has obviously left you deeply distressed."

"If it's all the same to you, sir, I'd rather not. I don't think I could handle any more nightmares right now."

Torok nodded. It was unfortunate that the young human's sleep had been disrupted, but it was to be expected. "The dreams you experienced last night were a residual effect of our mind meld. When a meld is difficult and the emotions are particularly intense, it can have a lingering impact on the subconscious. Long buried memories will suddenly burst into the mind, burning quick and hot much like a solar flare. This condition is short-lived. You should not be troubled by it for much longer."

The expression on Tucker's face clearly showed that he was not convinced. The dreams he experienced last night must have been extremely upsetting. It was unfortunate, but it couldn't be helped.

"I will send an attendant with a sedative," Torok informed T'Pol. "It should ensure that he has several hours of dreamless sleep."

"I still have the sedative Dr. Kaal gave me yesterday. I can adjust the dosage."

Torok frowned. "No. Dispose of that. I will see that you have everything you require."

T'Pol looked at the high priest questioningly, but did not seek any further explanation. "I will do as you ask."

"Good."

T'Pol rose from her chair and gently grasped Tucker's shoulder. "Come with me, Trip. It will only be for a few hours. I will be close by if you need me."

Trip shook his head and pulled away from her. His attention was focused solely on the high priest. "I don't know what you've got in mind for me, but whatever it is, I'd just as soon get it over with right now. You picked my brain pretty clean yesterday. I don't know what else I can tell ya."

"Do as I say, young man. I must take some time to collect my thoughts. You, in turn, must work to bring your mind and body back into balance."

Trip wrinkled his brow in confusion. "How in the hell am I supposed to do that?"

"I am sure T'Pol will explain it to you when you awaken." Torok flicked the fingers of one hand dismissively. "Good day, Commander."

TBC


	27. Chapter 27

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

I would also like to thank everyone who has read the chapters I've posted. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review them.

CHAPTER 27: TOROK

Torok watched in silence as Solik's family slowly walked down the Sanctuary's main staircase and into a waiting shuttle. Solik, the Director of the Vulcan Science Academy for the past forty-three years and a trusted colleague for over a century and a half, had died suddenly and alone. Before his family could reach him, his katra was lost. Torok deeply regretted that he had been able to offer little comfort to the man's widow or his two daughters. He had reminded them of Solik's contributions to Vulcan and conveyed his personal regard for the deceased. He could do no more.

From the top of the stairs, Torok watched as the pilot closed the hatch and prepared to take off. Slowly, his thoughts drifted back to a time long ago when he was new to the priesthood. His first posting had been to monastery in a remote, inhospitable region of Vulcan. One searing day at the height of the Vulcan summer, Velin, Solik's father, had arrived at the monastery with his eleven-year-old son in tow. A widower, Velin had been scheduled to embark on a mission for the Vulcan High Command. No explanation had been given regarding the nature of this mission, but the tacit implication had been that it was too dangerous for the boy to accompany his father. One hour after their arrival, Velin had departed alone.

Against his wishes, Torok, the youngest member of the order, had been selected to tutor the boy. Much to his surprise, Solik had challenged him from their first day together, forcing him to look beyond the obvious and examine his beliefs. Their hours spent together, teacher and student, had been immensely satisfying, molding Torok into the man he was today.

And now Solik, that eager, bright-eyed boy, long since grown to manhood, was dead, his katra lost for eternity.

Slowly Torok became aware that he was no longer alone.

"Does that shuttle contain Solik's family?" Soval asked quietly.

"Yes."

"I grieve with thee. His loss will be felt by a great many. He was truly a man of many gifts."

"He was indeed." Torok's eyes remained locked on the shuttle as it lifted off and rapidly disappeared from sight. "Have you done as I asked?"

"Yes, but it was not an easy task. It seems as though Mr. Tucker has more control over his emotions than Kaal. The doctor's behavior was quite unseemly."

"There was a time long ago when I expected more of Kaal. He showed great promise when he came to the Sanctuary thirty-six years ago. For a brief time I even considered placing him in charge of one of our monasteries, but that was before it became apparent that he was not all he seemed to be. Is he still on the premises?"

"No. He is on his way to Gol. He has agreed to undergo the rite of Kolinahr."

Surprised, Torok turned toward Soval. "How did you get him to agree to that?"

For a moment, Soval almost looked guilty. "I told him that he could enter the monastery on Mount Kolinahr or I would see that he was posted to the Starfleet vessel, _Columbia_. I believe they are looking for another physician."

"He is under guard?"

"Yes, and he will remain so until he no longer poses a threat."

"Good. You have done well, Ambassador."

Soval straightened his shoulders and clasped his hands behind his back. "Have you decided on a replacement for Kaal?"

"I have already spoken with Doctor Marrek about assuming the post of primary physician." When Soval arched an eyebrow in surprise, Torok added, "I am aware that she is very young, but she is a brilliant doctor, and she is loyal."

Soval looked over Torok's shoulder toward one of the doorways leading to the Sanctuary. "Did you send for Commander Tucker?"

Torok followed his gaze. "I sent an attendant to ask him to join me." Sighing, the high priest planted his sturdy cane firmly on the ground in front of him and, putting one hand over the other, gripped the knob tightly. "I would have preferred to delay this meeting, but I must know where we stand. Time is running short. Unchecked, Kiran can still do a great deal of damage. The man's willfulness knows no bounds. Commander Tucker's presence at the strategic talks may help to mitigate that. Like it or not, Kiran will be faced with a constant living reminder that things may not always be as they seem. He must remember to weigh matters carefully before he acts."

"I agree. To quote a phrase in common usage on Earth, I believe the commander 'has his number.'"

Torok raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"In other words, I believe that much of what Mr. Tucker surmised is correct," Soval explained, "and, deep down, I think Kiran believes it, too." Soval absent-mindedly plucked at an invisible thread on the sleeve of his robe as he looked off into the distance. "This morning's discussion must have been very unsettling for the admiral. No man likes to think that he has been manipulated."

"Especially a man as vain as Kiran," Torok murmured.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Trip asked when he drew close to the two Vulcans. He gave Soval a quick nod of recognition before giving his full attention to the high priest.

Torok was distressed to see that, even though the commander had rested for several hours, the sleep appeared to have done him little good. The dark circles under his eyes and the tense set of his jaw were clear reminders of his inner struggles.

"It has been a trying day. Would you care to join me in a cup of tea, young man?"

Trip looked a bit perplexed. "I guess so. I'd rather have a cold beer right about now, but I guess a cup of tea wouldn't be too bad."

"If you will excuse me," Soval said, "I would like to contact Ambassador V'Lar and confirm her time of arrival." Without waiting for a response, he dipped his head respectfully to Torok and headed back to the Sanctuary.

"Come with me, young man." Using his cane for support, the high priest began to slowly make his way down the staircase.

Trip quickly fell into step beside Torok. When the high priest wavered slightly, the commander reached out to help steady the old man, but at the last moment he evidently thought better of it and pulled his hand away. Instead, he hitched his robes up slightly to prevent them from tangling around his ankles.

"So where are we headed?"

"I have arranged for us to take tea in one of the oldest areas of the Sanctuary. You should find it quite pleasant since it is always cool, even during the intense heat of midday."

"The heat is pretty oppressive. No denyin' that." Trip cast his eyes toward the heavens and squinted. "An orange sky really fits this place, but I gotta admit that I miss the blue sky we have back on Earth. If we want to see splashes of orange, we have to wait for sunrise or sunset."

"It is too bad that I will never see your world in person," Torok remarked wistfully. "It must be a most interesting place."

"Yep. We've got a little bit of everything: deserts, glaciers, tropical rain forests, and oceans that seem to go on forever. The next time Soval travels to Earth, why don't you tag along?"

"No." Torok shook his head. "My place is here. I am too old and set in my ways to travel to distant worlds. Exploration is for the young."

"You still seem pretty spry to me." A wicked grin crossed Tucker's face. "Just how old are you, sir?"

Torok glanced out of the corner of his eye and took note of the teasing expression on the commander's face. "Do not be impertinent, young man," he said firmly but with a hint of warmth in his voice. "You know better than to ask such a question."

"Yes, sir, I do, but we have a saying on Earth: nothing ventured, nothing gained. You never know. Someday I might get lucky."

Torok snorted softly. After only a few minutes with this young man, against all logic, he could feel his dark mood begin to lift. This human was irreverent and brash, but with a depth and sincerity that reminded Torok at times of his former student, Solik. The two men were so different – worlds apart – but yet their katras seemed to sing a common song. Goodness radiated from both men, drawing people to them and lightening even the heaviest hearts.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, the high priest turned to the right and led Trip along a well-worn path that ran along the foot of Mount Seleya. As they walked, Torok took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the sweet smell of the heated soil and rocks. Over the years, this land had become a part of him. The winds breathed life into his body. The heat and glare from the sun continued to propel the blood through his veins. To leave Vulcan now, even for a short time, would mean cutting himself off from the very life force he needed to sustain himself. It had been a foolish indulgence to contemplate travel to a distant world. His place was here, where his life had meaning and purpose.

After they'd gone a short distance, Torok pointed to a small stone structure directly ahead of them. "This is the well of our ancestors. It is the reason the Sanctuary was located on this site. Untold generations of Vulcans have come to this place to drink from the well before climbing the stairs to the Sanctuary. From childhood we are taught that we must first tend to the needs of the body before we can satisfy our thirst for enlightenment."

The simple oval structure was fifty-two feet long and twenty-six feet wide with rough stone walls and a flat roof. The walls were plain except for a waist-high band of ancient Vulcan symbols, which spelled out the virtues one must strive to attain in order to live a worthy life.

Torok led the way through the narrow doorway and down four steps to the central chamber. Stepping aside to let the young human pass, he paused for a moment at the foot of the steps to allow his eyes to adjust to the dimly lit interior. The only source of light was slits spaced two feet apart along the outer walls. The air was noticeably cooler and slightly more humid, but it was the sound of running water that made this a special place for Torok.

Trip walked over to the three-foot-high stone wall that surrounded the well and peered over the edge. "This isn't like any well I've ever seen before. The water down there is moving."

"Most of the freshwater rivers and lakes on Vulcan are underground. Water on the surface tends to evaporate too quickly."

"I guess that makes sense." Trip leaned over and lifted a large ceramic jug from the floor. One end of a long rope was threaded through the jug's curved handles and secured. The other end was attached to a large metal ring which had been driven into the ground next to the well. When he'd made sure the rope was firmly attached to the ring, Trip motioned with the jug and asked, "Is it okay?"

"Of course."

Trip leaned over and lowered the jug into the rapidly moving water. The jug jerked when it hit the current, stretching the rope taut. Tucker looked over to the high priest, and eagerly observed, "It's gotta be at least forty feet down to the water."

"In your measurements, I believe that it is forty-eight feet one inch from ground level to the surface of the water."

A huge smile spread across Tucker's face. "That's good to know. Next time T'Pol gets after me for not learning more about alien cultures, I'm gonna be ready for her." Slowly, straining slightly at first, Trip pulled up the jug. As soon as he set it down on the top of the well wall, he looked around for a cup.

"Let me show you." Torok leaned his cane against the wall and took the jug from Tucker. He deftly lifted the cumbersome jug, and, tilting his head back, positioned the short spout above his mouth. A barely perceptible movement of his wrists sent a controlled, but steady stream of water into his mouth. Another subtle movement of his wrists and the flow stopped. Lowering the jug, he offered it to the commander.

Trip looked askance at the jug. "I appreciate the offer, sir, but I think I'd better pass. My luck's been pretty lousy lately. I'm willing to bet that all I'd get for my trouble would be a face full of water."

"It simply requires practice." Torok leaned over and, after setting the jug on the ground, retrieved his cane. "Given time, it will become as natural for you as it is for me."

Smiling, Trip said, "I'll keep that in mind."

"I have your tea, sir."

Torok turned and saw a young female attendant standing in the doorway. She had a large rectangular metal tray in her hands. On the tray sat a spherical brushed metal teapot with two large matching cups and a triangular metal bowl containing loose tea leaves.

"Come in, T'Lahr," Torok said. "We will be in the south room when you are ready."

There was a small private room on either end of the wellhouse, where visitors and residents of the Sanctuary could rest or meditate. The south room contained a round table surrounded by four straight chairs. In the far left corner, a small open-front cabinet contained a variety of reading materials. Instead of slits in the wall, a large circular window filled the chamber with natural light. Below the window, a curved bench followed the contour of the wall.

The north room was designed for meditation. Four large platforms, each nine inches high, were evenly spaced around the room. Each platform was covered by thick woven mats in shades of russet and tan. The circular window in the north chamber was covered by a heavy, dark cloth. All light came from thick white candles liberally sprinkled around the room.

Torok led the commander to the right and climbed the four steps to the south chamber. Once inside, Torok sat down and motioned for Trip to take the chair next to him. "I often come here to meditate. I find the sound of the water soothing."

Before Trip could respond, T'Lahr entered the room and put the tray down on the table. She picked up the pot and placed it on a small circle at the center of the table. As soon as her hands left the pot, steam started to pour from the spout. Quickly returning the pot to the tray, she added the tea leaves and put the lid back on the pot to allow the leaves to steep. Bowing to the high priest, she turned and left the room.

Trip moved his hand toward the small circle and then hesitated, looking to Torok for reassurance.

"You may touch it. You will not be burned."

Trip brushed his palm across the circle. Intrigued, he bent over and peered beneath the table. When he sat up again his face was wreathed in smiles. "That's pretty slick. I don't suppose I could get a look at the specs for this table?"

"I leave such things to other men."

"I'm guessin' that's a no," Trip responded good-humoredly."

Torok reached for the pot and poured two steaming cups of tea. "Do you know why we are here, young man?" he asked softly.

In an instant, Trip's smile vanished. Taking a deep breath, his eyes began to aimlessly survey the room around him. "I've got a pretty good idea. I figured this had to be more that just a sightseeing tour."

Satisfied with Tucker's response, Torok nodded his approval. "I learned a great deal about you yesterday. I believe I now possess the knowledge to help you with your problems."

Trip shifted restlessly and ran his fingers through his hair. "There isn't a whole lot more you can say. I know I have to do a better job of handlin' my grief. Believe me, I'm tryin'. Just give me a little more time."

The high priest leaned back in his chair, one hand still wrapped around the knob of his cane, and looked intently at the young human. "Tell me about your foreparents."

Clearly caught off guard, Trip stared at Torok for a moment before answering. "You mean my grandparents?"

"Yes. Are they still living?"

"Grandma and Grandpa Tucker live in Virginia. I don't get to see them as often as I'd like, but I try to keep in touch."

"What about your maternal grandparents?"

"They're dead." There was still a trace of puzzlement in Trip's voice, but he seemed to be untroubled by the question.

"That is regrettable. How did they die?"

"They were killed in an accident."

"What sort of accident?"

"I don't know." Trip scrubbed his hand across his brow. "I was pretty young when it happened. My parents never really talked much about it."

"How old were you?"

Trip shifted restlessly. "I don't know."

"You should know," Torok said quietly. "You were there when they died."

Trip stiffened and his eyes took on a dazed look as though he'd been struck. "That's not true," he said in a voice tight with emotion. "Don't ya think I'd remember somethin' like that? They died in an accident a long time ago."

"They died in a plane crash when you were ten years old."

"You don't know that," Trip challenged Torok defensively.

"You were on the plane with them at the time. Don't you remember?"

"That's a lie!"

"It is the truth, young man."

"Who told you that?" Trip leaned forward angrily. "I know you didn't get any of that nonsense from pokin' around in my head."

"No. You've hidden those memories far too deep for me to reach them. The information came from your father."

"You talked to my dad?"

"Soval spoke to him. Your father was distressed that this event was still troubling you. He is naturally very concerned about your welfare."

Trip slammed his fist on the tabletop and glared at the high priest. "Soval had no right to do that! It's none of his damned business! Or yours!"

"Do not forget, Commander, you came to me seeking help. I will do whatever I feel is necessary."

Tucker jumped to his feet, knocking over his chair in the process. His body was rigid, his fists clenched. "I don't have to sit here and listen to this garbage. I've had my fill of Vulcans for one day!"

"Sit down, Commander Tucker," Torok said in a no-nonsense tone of voice.

"No! I'm fed up with…"

Torok thumped his cane firmly on the floor. "I said sit down." Even though his emotions were still under control, he could not prevent his voice from rising. "At once!"

For a moment, Torok thought that he had failed. Breathing heavily, Trip appeared to be ready to bolt from the room, but then his face suddenly crumpled, and he looked away.

"Please sit down, young man," Torok said softly. "We still have much to discuss."

Tucker shook his head. "I can't talk about that. I don't know anything. I can't…"

"You can and you must. Don't you see that this single event lies at the heart of your problems? It is the circumstances surrounding your grandparents' death that you have been running from all these years."

"You've got it all wrong. I wasn't there."

"According to your father, you were."

"No!"

"Those memories are poisoning your katra. You cannot continue to ignore them."

There was a growing sense of desperation in Trip's voice. "How can I tell you what I don't know?"

"I think you know the answer to that, young man."

Trip stared blankly at the high priest for a few moments, and then he tilted his head back as a wave of anguish passed over his face. "You're talkin' about another mind meld. That's right, isn't it?"

"Yes. We must dig those memories out and expose them to the light of day. Then you can begin to heal."

"I don't remember…," Trip whispered frantically.

"You can with my assistance, but you must be willing to try. Will you allow me to help you?"

In that instant the Starfleet officer disappeared and in his place stood a frightened little boy. Trip's blue eyes were filled with panic – pure mind-shattering fear. "Please don't make me do this," he whispered shakily. "They died in an accident…a long time ago."

Torok knew that, once started, there was no turning back. He had to fight his way past the boy to once again reach the man. "I will not force you, but you know what has to be done. It is your future that I am trying to secure. When you were a child you refused to allow anyone to help you, but you are no longer a child. You know that you have struggled on your own. Why did you remain at the Sanctuary if you refuse to accept the help I can give?"

Trip shook his head and wrapped his arms tightly around his body.

"Think about your life with T'Pol."

Trip stared at him numbly. "T'Pol?"

"Your bondmate. Think what your uncontrolled emotions are doing to her." Torok nudged the commander's leg with his cane. "Sit down and listen to what I have to say." When Trip failed to respond, Torok continued on. "I have seen your courage, young man. I know you do not run from trouble. Now pick up your chair and sit down."

Torok watched with interest as Trip dropped his head and pressed his lips together. When he raised his head a few moments later, the frightened little boy had disappeared and the man was once again in control.

Without further protest, Trip reached down and righted his chair. When he was seated, Torok caught his eye, ensuring that he had his full attention. "Do you agree to do this, young man? Will you let me help you find the source of your pain once and for all?"

The muscles in Trip's jaw worked furiously, but he remained silent.

"If you will not do this for yourself, do it for T'Pol. For better or worse, her life is now joined to yours."

"You sure don't play fair," Trip murmured resignedly as his shoulders sagged and he slumped back in his chair. "I guess I don't have much choice, do I?" He glanced off to the left, but Torok was still able to catch the look of utter desolation in his eyes. "All right. Go ahead."

After studying him carefully for a few moments, the high priest picked up one of the cups and placed it before Trip. "I want you to drink this, young man." Torok picked up the other cup and drank.

Trip eyed the high priest warily. "Why are you giving this to me now? What's in it?"

"Your cup contains tea, but it is a special blend that will help you to relax. As you can see, I drink it myself. I find it useful when conditions make it difficult for me to achieve a meditative state."

Trip looked at the cup skeptically. "You want to drug me?"

"This mind meld will be difficult. It is absolutely essential for you to be as relaxed as possible. If it will ease your mind, Soval consulted the doctor on your ship. The tea will not harm you."

Trip slowly picked up his cup and examined the contents. Finally, he took a sip, grimacing slightly when the cup parted from his lips. "I think I'd rather have that beer, if ya don't mind."

"Finish it, young man."

When the cup was empty, Torok said, "You must listen to me carefully. Your memories are buried very deep. If I use too much force, I could do irreparable damage your brain. I need your full cooperation. Do you understand?"

Trip nodded his head. "Let's just get it over with."

Torok picked up the cups and set them aside. "Move your chair closer. Good. Now you must relax and let me in. Do not try to erect any mental barriers. Do you understand, Commander?"

Trip nodded.

"A nod is not sufficient. Do you understand what you must do?"

"Yes, sir."

Torok looked into Trip's eyes and tried to offer some measure of reassurance. "It will be all right, young man. We will get through this together." With that said he placed his left hand on Tucker's face and began the ancient chant.

Torok was pleased that the connection was made more swiftly than the previous day. With Tucker's full cooperation, he moved swiftly through the young human's mind, ignoring the chaos and heightened emotions that swirled around him. He knew that he was approaching his destination when he spied the ominous dark shadows that screened the area where Trip hid away his bitterest memories. Pushing through the shadows, he caught sight of the barrier and abruptly came to a halt.

Overnight the barrier had been fortified, making it even more impenetrable; the walls were now thicker and stronger with rugged protrusions to discourage entry. "Relax young man," his mind spoke soothingly. "I only want to help. You must let me in." He surveyed the barrier carefully, but failed to find a weak spot. Resigned that there was no easy way to accomplish his task, he pushed against the barrier once, twice, and then over and over again. Soon chips and cracks began to appear in the surface, but the barrier remained intact. "Relax." There was a growing urgency in Torok's message. "Accept that these memories exist and let me in. Do not fight me." His mind once again surged forward against the barrier, but this time Trip's body shuddered and the young man cried out in pain. Torok knew he should end this, but he could feel that he was finally close to achieving his goal. Before he broke the meld and accepted defeat, he decided to try one more time. Channeling his energy, he decided to focus on a single tiny spot that appeared to be vulnerable. His mind surged forward, striking the small spot with great force, and suddenly the barrier shattered. His initial feelings of relief were quickly tempered, however, when he became aware of Trip's agonized screams.

Torok took a split second to assess the damage. Tucker was semi-conscious, his head leaning heavily against the high priest's hand. Torok could detect no permanent damage, but the trauma the destruction of the barrier had caused was significant. Quickly, he blanketed Trip's mind with calm, soothing thoughts. "Breathe deeply, young man. You know the proper technique. I will give you all the help that I can." Trip's response was sluggish, but finally he did respond. Slowly, with the two men working together, Trip's breathing and heart rate steadied. The pain was still intense, but the only remedy for that was an analgesic or a sedative and, at the moment, that was not an option.

Finally, Torok's patience was rewarded when he felt Tucker's mind stir to full consciousness. "I regret the pain I caused you, young man," his mind spoke sincerely. "Remember that no matter what happens, no matter what you may see, I will be with you. You will not be alone."

Trip's mental response was weak, but the message left no doubt as to his inner strength. "You just did what had to be done. I'll be fine."

"Are you prepared to move forward?"

Trip's mind paused before answering. "I guess so. I can't hide from the truth forever."

Torok once again flooded the young human's mind with calm, reassuring thoughts, and then everything changed.

_The small plane flew through the azure sky, white wings agleam in the late morning sun. Below, serpentine waterways sliced through the land, giving the Everglades the appearance of a giant patchwork quilt. Ahead, off in the distance, banks of white cumulus clouds stood watch over the blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico. The day couldn't have been any more ideal. _

"_This is the best birthday I've ever had," Trip announced enthusiastically. "Thanks, Grandpa!"_

"_What about me, young man?" _

_Trip turned his head and grinned at the pretty blond lady in the backseat. "Thanks, Grandma." _

"_I know I can't compete with your grandpa's fancy plane, but I do have a three-layer chocolate cake waiting for you when we get back home. That ought to count for something."_

"_With fudge frostin' and marshmallows?"_

"_Yes, dear. Just the way you like it." _

"_Watch where you're going, Trip," his grandfather warned. "Keep the wings straight and level. If you're going to pilot a plane, you have to pay attention."_

_Trip glanced up at his grandfather with a healthy dose of reverence in his eyes, and then looked straight ahead. "Yes, sir."_

_Smiling, Joe reached over and gave his grandson's shoulder an affectionate squeeze._

_Trip's eyes glowed with enthusiasm. "I can't wait to tell mom and dad that I got to take off. Boy, will they be surprised." _

_Joe cast a nervous look at his wife before turning back to his grandson. "Um…maybe that's something we should keep just between the three of us, Trip. What do you say?" _

"_Well…okay, I guess." Trip couldn't keep the disappointment out of his voice. _

_Joe reached over and thoroughly mussed his grandson's hair. "Do you think we can trust your grandma to keep our secret? She sure does like to talk." _

_"I heard that!" Olivia's shouted good-naturedly. Smiling, her husband looked over his shoulder and winked at her._

_His disappointment forgotten, Trip grinned happily as he concentrated on keeping the plane flying straight and level. _

_Joe took a quick look at the charts and then leaned forward to check the instrument panel. His brown hair and carefully trimmed beard were now speckled with grey, but his hazel eyes still held a boyish gleam. "We're going to have to change headings, son. You better let me take over now."_

_"Please, Grandpa," Trip pleaded. "Just a little longer. I can change course. I did it before."_

_"We had a deal. I take over once we head north again. You've been flying this plane for a long time. It's time to rest."_

_"Please."_

_"It's his birthday, Joe." Olivia leaned forward and placed a restraining hand on her husband's shoulder. Her blue eyes, so like her grandson's, were soft and gentle. _

_"A man has to learn to keep his word, Livy," Joe answered firmly. "Trip and I had an agreement."_

_"He's ten years old. You can teach him about responsibility some other time." Turning her attention to her grandson, she gently began combing her fingers through Trip's hair, straightening the unruly mess her husband had left. "Are you sure you aren't too tired, honey?" _

_"I'm fine, Grandma." Trip ducked his head away from her hand. "I bet I could fly this plane all the way home…" He glanced expectantly at his grandfather. "…and land it, too."_

_"Absolutely not," Joe shook his head adamantly. "I may let you pilot this plane for a little while longer, but when it comes to landing…"_

_Suddenly there was a sharp crack and the nose of the plane yawed to the right and dropped. Confused and frightened, Trip gripped the yoke and screamed, "Grandpa! What'd I do?" _

_"Let go of the yoke, Trip," Joe shouted as he struggled to regain control of the plane. Eyes wide with fear, Trip's grip only tightened. "Let go damn it!" Joe barked. "Livy!" _

_Olivia leaned forward and began to pull frantically on her grandson's arm. "Trip! Let go!" Finally, his grandmother's words penetrated and Trip jerked his hands away from the yoke as though it was red hot. _

_Struggling, Joe managed to bring the nose up a bit, but the plane was still out of control and dropping fast. "Trip," he shouted, "get in the back seat with your grandma and strap yourself in!" _

_"No! I can help."_

_"Do as I say, son. Your grandma needs you."_

_"But…"_

_"Now!" Joe yelled. "Move!"_

_Trip scrambled over the seat and fastened his seatbelt. He could feel his grandma's hands as she checked to be sure that he was securely belted in, but his eyes remained firmly fixed on his grandfather as he fought to control the plane. _

_Trip heard the landing gear come down and then Joe yelled, "There's a clearing ahead, but it's gonna be tight! Livy, you and Trip keep your heads down! You hear?" _

_"We'll be fine!" she shouted back. _

_The ground was coming up fast. Joe fought for control, but the plane refused to respond. "Heads down!" _

_Just before that plane struck the ground, Olivia slipped her arm out of her shoulder harness and, leaning over, covered Trip with her upper body._

_The wheels bounced once and then the right wing dropped sending the plane into a cartwheel. Olivia screamed, tightening her grip on her grandson. The plane tumbled out of control until it slammed into two large trees and suddenly everything was silent. _

_Trip whimpered softly as he regained consciousness. Feeling a bit nauseous, he wanted to move, but there was a weight on his back, holding him down. When he became aware that something wet was dripping down his neck and onto his knee, he squirmed frantically trying to break free. After several failed attempts, he managed to release the catch on his seatbelt, but the weight still held him in place. Struggling, he finally managed to wriggle down to the floor. The weight shifted as soon as he moved, but it took him a few moments to realize that it was his grandmother._

_Trip took hold of her arm and shook it gently. "Grandma?" He couldn't see her face, but it was impossible to miss the ugly wound on the back of her head, red blood and bits of bone oozing through her blond hair. Part of the roof had collapsed, sending jagged pieces of metal to deal a killing blow. Trip stared uncomprehendingly at his grandmother's body as her blood continued to drip steadily down on him. He shook her again, this time more forcefully, but she didn't respond._

"_Livy. Trip."_

_Still unable to tear his eyes away from his grandmother's body, Trip answered shakily, "I'm here, Grandpa." _

"_Are you hurt?"_

"_I don't think so."_

"_Get up here, son," Joe called weakly. "I need help."_

_A sob caught in Trip's throat. "I think Grandma's dead." _

_"Hurry, Trip. I need you."_

_Trip shook himself and sniffed. "I'm comin'." Squirming through the debris, he managed to reach his grandfather. Joe's head and neck were bleeding, but he seemed to be unaware of those injuries. His attention was focused solely on the upper portion of his right arm, which had been sliced open to the bone. _

"_Grandpa?" _

"_I can't…stop the bleeding. Remember your first…aid. Take off your shirt and…and press down."_

_For a moment, Trip stared in disbelief as the bright red blood spurted rhythmically through Joe's fingers. A nudge from his grandfather brought him back to reality, and he quickly pulled his shirt over his head._

"_Fold your shirt and…" Joe weakly tried to take a deep breath. "…press down hard." Trip quickly did as he was told, but the blood continued to flow. _

"_It won't stop!" _

_Perspiration dotted Joe's face and his breathing was becoming labored. "You can do it, but you…you've got to try harder." _

"_I'm tryin', Grandpa!" Trip cried frantically as tears streamed down his face. _

"_Harder," Joe whispered. Know…you can do it. Trip…I lo…"_

_Trip looked into his grandfather's face and saw the light go out of his eyes. As Joe's body slumped back, Trip tightened his grip on his grandfather's arm. "Don't die," he murmured shakily. "I'll try harder. Please don't die."_

_Before long, when the flow of blood had stopped, Trip slowly released his grip on his grandfather's arm. Joe's eyes stared sightlessly at the roof of the plane; his face was unnaturally pale beneath the blood. Trip sniffed and ran a trembling hand over his tear-stained cheeks. "Grandpa?" he whispered in a bewildered tone. The only answering sound was the call of a marsh bird off in the distance. Fighting down a growing sense of panic, he suddenly leaned over and shook his grandfather's shoulders. "Wake up, Grandpa!" There was no response as Joe's head rolled lifelessly to the left. Throwing his arms around his grandfather, Trip buried his face in Joe's chest and sobbed, "I love you, Grandpa. Please, don't leave me."_

_After a while, when there were no more tears to be shed, Trip straightened up and looked around. There was blood everywhere. He had to get away. He threw his weight against the passenger door again and again, but it refused to open. With his grandfather's body blocking the pilot's door, he had no choice but to climb through the broken front windshield. Clutching his bloody shirt and oblivious to the shards of broken glass that cut into his hands and legs, he crawled out onto the crumpled nose of the plane and slid gracelessly to the ground._

_Dazed, he looked around, but there were only unending miles of trees and swamp land in every direction. He started to walk, but he only managed to go a few yards before he stumbled over a log. Picking himself up, he sat down and wiped his nose on his forearm. His eyes caught sight of the bloody shirt in his hand and, startled, he threw it away. Frantically he began to wipe his hands back and forth over his shorts, but no matter how hard he worked, he couldn't remove the blood from his hands. Finally, as he began to retreat further and further from the real world, he began to shiver. Staring numbly at the broken plane in front of him, he wrapped his arms around his body and slowly began to rock back and forth. Only the birds flying overhead bore witness as he began to mumble over and over, "I'm so sorry. All my fault. I'm so sorry_."

"It is over, young man," Torok's mind whispered softly. "Now we must begin to make sense of what we have just seen."

Instead of a controlled, logical response, the high priest felt Trip's body tense, and then a towering wave of white-hot emotion engulfed them both. Nothing in Torok's life – not even the mind meld from the previous day – had prepared him for this soul-searing mixture of guilt, fear, and sorrow. In self-defense, he struggled to send calm, consoling thoughts to the young human, but they were immediately swept away half-formed.

Through the tumult, he became aware that Trip's mind was already working desperately to rebuild the barrier.

"No!" Torok shouted mentally into the whirlwind. "You can no longer hide from the truth! Face your grief!" He could feel Trip immediately begin to pull away from him. "Stand and fight, young man! I cannot fight for you!"

Suddenly, Torok could feel Trip's pain escalate. Before he could respond, he felt Trip's body shudder and go limp. Almost immediately, the chaotic emotions began to abate to a more manageable level.

Withdrawing from the mind meld, Torok took a moment to collect himself. Thoroughly shaken, he covered his face with his hands and worked to control his breathing. The experience had left him drained both physically and mentally. He needed to meditate at once.

When he lowered his hands, he was distressed to see that, even though the commander was unconscious, his face still bore traces of his anguish. "Dr. Marrek," Torok called weakly, "I need you."

Seconds later he heard someone enter the chamber.

Looking up, he saw T'Pol cross the room and take up a position next to the unconscious human. It was readily apparent to the high priest that she had been unable to shield herself completely from her bondmate's distress. The tightness around her mouth and eyes were clear indications of her struggle to control her emotions.

"I did not expect to see you here," Torok said, struggling to regain his normal tone of voice.

Reaching over Trip's body, T'Pol gently began to rearrange his head and arms so that they rested more comfortably on the table. "Where else would I be?"she answered tensely.** "**My place is with Commander Tucker."

Torok was preparing to summon the doctor again, when he saw her mounting the four steps into the south chamber. Turning to face the high priest, she asked, "How may I be of assistance?"

As soon as T'Pol heard Marrek's voice, her head whipped around. She immediately stretched her arm protectively over Trip's back and glared at the doctor.

Somewhat surprised by T'Pol's defensive stance, Torok said, "T'Pol, this is Doctor Marrek. She has just assumed the post of primary physician for the Sanctuary. I asked her to stand by in case her services were required. I would like her to take a look at Commander Tucker. I believe he is in some distress."

T'Pol remained silent, her eyes fixed warily on the doctor.

Apparently sensing T'Pol's distrust, the doctor refrained from moving further into the room. "Please allow me to tend to the commander," Marrek said calmly. T'Pol's only response was to dig her fingers into Trip's shoulder as she tightened her grip.

True to her Vulcan heritage, Marrek's face displayed no hint of emotion, but her dark brown eyes were surprisingly lustrous and expressive. Blessed with a bright mind and tremendous powers of concentration, she had begun studying medicine at an early age, and had since advanced rapidly in her chosen profession. One look at her confirmed Torok's belief that she understood the situation and could handle it.

"I spent five years studying medicine on Earth," Marrek reassured T'Pol. "I will not harm him."

Completely disregarding the doctor, T'Pol turned her attention to Torok. "When will this end?" she asked tightly. "Commander Tucker has done everything you asked, but he is no better now than when he arrived. Look at him. He does not deserve this."

Taken aback by her reproach, Torok said, "I am only doing what is necessary to help the commander regain his health. You must trust me."

"He is human. How can you be sure that you are not hurting him?"

"I have seen his thoughts, his memories. In some ways, I know him better than he knows himself. I assure you, T'Pol, he has the strength to get through this. The mind meld will do him no lasting harm."

"His problems cannot be solved in a day," T'Pol challenged. "Humans are not…"

Torok slammed his cane against the floor, his control at an end. "The strategic talks will not wait while you coddle him, T'Pol. The Romulan threat is real. Commander Tucker understands that and the lengths the Romulans are willing to go to defeat us. He must be present at the talks."

T'Pol's eyes widened, but she continued to argue her point. "Captain Archer and Admirals Gardner and Uhlani will speak for Earth. There is little Trip can do..."

"Enough," Torok snapped. "You, of all people, should know what this young man is capable of doing when he puts his mind to a task."

The high priest closed his eyes and raised a trembling hand to his head. This was intolerable. "I must meditate," he murmured, feeling every one of his 191 years. Slowly, he rose from his chair and looked down at Trip. "I thought I was prepared, but…" He pressed his lips together and took a deep, ragged breath.

"No one could be prepared for such a devastating experience," T'Pol whispered.

"Indeed."

"Do you also require my services?" the doctor asked, looking with concern at the high priest.

"Meditation will take care of my needs," Torok answered firmly. He took a moment to square his shoulders and lift his chin. Already deeply disturbed by his loss of control, he was determined not to allow himself to appear weak or vulnerable. "I wish to remain undisturbed for three hours. T'Pol, I suggest you meditate as well."

"I will remain with Commander Tucker," T'Pol stated firmly. "He must not be alone when he awakens."

"Do what you feel is necessary, but allow Marrek to do her job." This time Torok refused to surrender to his growing impatience and softened his tone. "She is not like Doctor Kaal. You do not have to be concerned for the commander's safety." Whether it was his tone of voice or his words, Torok was gratified to see T'Pol release her grip on the commander's shoulder and take a step back, signifying her acceptance of Marrek's help.

Without further ado, Torok moved past Doctor Marrek, down the steps, and across the wellhouse to the north chamber. This time he knew that it was going to take more that than the sound of running water to calm his katra.

TBC


	28. Chapter 28

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

I would also like to thank everyone who has read the chapters I've posted. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review them.

CHAPTER 28: TRIP

The first thing Trip saw when he opened his eyes was the soft flicker of candlelight. Taking a deep breath, he blinked a couple of times to try to clear his vision and then slowly rolled over on his side. He groaned when the movement intensified the agonizing pounding in his head. Disoriented, he managed to pry his eyes open a little further, but nothing around him looked familiar.

He started to sit up, but before he could get very far, two strong hands took hold of him. Startled, he looked back over one shoulder, catching his breath when he saw a figure looming over him.

"Do not rise."

Reassured by the gentle tone of the voice, Trip squinted and gradually a female form came into focus. "T'Pol?" he asked huskily.

"I'm here," she murmured softly. "Everything will be all right." Easing him back down, she gently began to massage his neck and shoulders. "Do you know where you are?"

Trip looked around the dimly lit room. "No." He scrubbed a hand over his face and noticed the full, embroidered sleeve of his robe. "Are we still on Vulcan?"

"Yes. We're in the meditation room of the wellhouse."

"The wellhouse?" Trip tried to sit up again, and this time T'Pol did not try to prevent it. Once he was seated comfortably on the low platform, she moved over to sit beside him. "I guess that explains the sound I'm hearin'," he murmured hesitantly, "but this doesn't look right." He started to shake his head, but stopped abruptly when a sharp pain shot through his brain, leaving him feeling slightly nauseous. Wincing, he took another look around, trying to move his head as little as possible. Finally he mumbled, "Torok brought me down here to see the well."

"That is correct," T'Pol said reassuringly, her voice soft and soothing.

Trip slowly raised one hand and pointed towards the doorway. "But we went to the other side. He wanted to have tea and…"

Without warning, Trip's mind was brutally bombarded by memories of his grandparents' final moments. He saw the ground rushing toward them, felt the plane hit and begin to flip. Shuddering, he threw his hands over his eyes in an attempt to block out the graphic images of their lifeless, mutilated bodies. "No!" he howled in agony as his grandmother's dying scream reverberated over and over through his brain.

Jumping to his feet, Trip stumbled toward the doorway. He could feel T'Pol's hands on his arms, he could feel her mind desperately calling to him, but none of that seemed real. Reality was two battered bodies in a broken airplane. Reality was blood and destruction and intense pain. Reality was a blinding sense of guilt so great that it smothered all hope, all joy, even the will to go on living.

He tore his trembling hands away from his face and stared at his palms. "There's too much blood," he whispered in an anguished tone. "I tried to wipe it off, but it won't go away."

"Sit down, Trip." T'Pol took his arm and tried to pull him back down onto the platform, but he remained rooted to the spot. His eyes were riveted on his hands as though they were a stage and his memories were a tragic drama unfolding.

"I'm sorry," he murmured frantically. "I love you so much. Please forgive me. It's all my fault."

Suddenly, the dark cloth was pulled back from the window and light filled the room. Trip blinked as his eyes adjusted, but his memories still held him in their grip.

T'Pol gently took his hands in hers and held them up for Trip to see. "Look at your hands in the light of day," she entreated. "Any blood that might have been there was washed away long ago."

"I don't understand." Confusion was writ plainly across his face. "It was there. I saw it."

T'Pol pulled his arms apart and took a step back. "Do you see any blood?" she asked softly.

His eyes darted from his hands to the front of his suit and the sleeves of his robe. He shook his head bewilderedly and looked at T'Pol.

"Don't allow your mind to play tricks on you." Releasing his hands, she continued to hold his gaze. "Your grandparents would not want you to feel this way. They cared deeply for you."

"Sit down, young man. We have much to do."

Trip's head snapped up and his eyes darted around the room, seeking the owner of that voice. He caught a glimpse of an unfamiliar woman standing by the window, but she held no interest for him. Looking beyond her, he spied Torok, sitting cross-legged on a platform at the far side of the room.

One look at the high priest and Trip's body went rigid.

"Please don't make me see anymore," he begged in a hushed tone, eyes wide. "It shouldn't have happened. They died and…" He swallowed hard. "…and it was my fault. I'm to blame. I couldn't… I tried, but…" Suddenly, all of the grief and misery he'd kept bottled up for over two decades broke free, surging mercilessly through his heart and mind like a massive tidal wave. Crying out in anguish, Trip covered his face and began to sob inconsolably.

Dimly, in the back of his mind, he knew that T'Pol was with him, stroking his back and whispering sympathetic words that only he could hear, but he was incapable of responding to her entreaties. Her words were a distant noise, nothing more.

Finally, T'Pol grasped his shoulders and pulled him towards her. Trip hesitated for a split second and then threw his arms around her waist, burying his face in her neck. He'd loved his grandparents so much, and because of him, they'd died. How could he ever make the hurt go away? How could he ever atone for what he'd done? Gasping for breath between sobs, Trip felt T'Pol tightened her grip on him, as though she feared that his grief might sweep him away.

Tears flowed freely from his previously untapped reservoir of grief and remorse. Finally, when he was totally spent, they began to abate. T'Pol, apparently sensing the change in him, loosened her grip and murmured, "Are you all right, Trip?" Reaching up, she brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Does your head hurt?"

Sniffing, Trip scrubbed a shaky hand over his eyes and mumbled, "Yeah. It feels like somebody's tryin' to drive a spike into my brain."

T'Pol handed him a handkerchief and then looked toward the window. "Doctor."

Trip blew his nose and pocketed the handkerchief. He tried to relax, but he couldn't prevent his body from tensing when the tall, willowy woman he'd noticed earlier approached him.

"Trip, this is Doctor Marrek," T'Pol said in calm, quiet voice. "She can ease your pain."

Marrek took a moment to study her patient, and then pointed her medical scanner in his direction. After quickly studying the results, she announced, "You are still experiencing some trauma from the mind meld. You will need a strong analgesic to dull the pain." She pulled out a hypospray. "With your permission, Commander?"

Trip glanced at T'Pol, who responded with a subtle nod. Reassured, he tilted his head slightly and Marrek pressed the hypospray against his neck. "Is that better?"

Trip squeezed his eyes shut and pressed one hand firmly against his temple. Slowly, he began to feel the pain dissipate. Opening his eyes, he smiled weakly at the doctor. "Yeah. That's a lot better."

"The analgesic should give you relief from your pain for twelve hours." She handed a hypospray to Trip. "This contains another dose. If you are still troubled by any lingering effects from the meld after twenty-four hours, please send for me at once."

Trip turned the hypospray over in his hands and then slid it into an inner pocket in his robe. "Thanks."

With the successful completion of her duties, Marrek turned her attention to the high priest. "Do you want me to stay?"

"That will not be necessary. You may resume your duties, Marrek."

The doctor bowed her head and quietly left the room.

When T'Pol turned to follow the doctor out of the chamber, Trip's hand whipped out and grabbed hold of her wrist. "Please don't leave," he said with a hint of desperation in his voice.

"Are you sure you want me remain?" T'Pol asked quietly. "Perhaps it would be better if the two of you spoke in private."

Trip shook his head adamantly. "I think I'm gonna need your help to get through this." He looked at her beseechingly. "Will you stay?"

"Of course." T'Pol reached up and smoothed a wrinkle from the front of his robe. "I know this will be difficult for you. Try to relax. It will be over soon."

"Come and sit down, young man," Torok said from across the room.

Reluctantly, Trip stepped around T'Pol and walked over to the meditation platform on which Torok was seated. He stood for a moment, looking down at the high priest. "I'm sorry about the cryin'," he finally said in a guilty voice. "I know that must have made you pretty uncomfortable."

"You are not Vulcan," Torok answered softy. "Your needs are not the same as ours."

"I know, but…"

"It is illogical to apologize for meeting the needs of your body. Your species needs to vent emotions. We must suppress them. That is the way of things."

Somewhat relieved by Torok's response, Trip sank down on the thick mats. He smiled weakly at T'Pol when she took her place beside him.

When they were seated, Torok asked, "Are you ready to begin, young man?"

Trip bit his lip and tried to remember all of the breathing exercises T'Pol had taught him. He was fighting desperately to stay calm, but he was afraid that it was a losing battle. He didn't want to do this. A part of him wanted to get up and walk out, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the man who was trying to turn his world upside down. Digging up the past had brought him nothing but misery. Why couldn't Torok leave him alone? All he wanted was a few moments of peace. Was that too much to ask?

"Commander?"

Against his better judgment, Trip looked up and focused on the high priest. "I suppose you want to talk about my…my grandparents," he said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.

"Yes. I regret that the mind meld was painful for you."

Folding his right hand around his left fist, Trip tightened his grip and tried to hold on. "That's okay. It's nothing I can't handle."

"I never doubted that." Torok shifted slightly. "Now that this traumatic event is out in the open, we can begin to lessen the impact it has your life. I will do all that I can to…"

Trip didn't hear anymore. Shaking his head, he squeezed his eyes shut in anguish. Torok was a good man, but he just didn't understand. Lessen the impact on your life, he'd said. Didn't he realize that that was impossible? This time the grief went too deep. In his mind's eye, Trip could see himself standing at the edge of a bottomless black pit. He was leaning forward. Just a few more inches and gravity would take hold, pulling him down into the abyss. As much as he loved T'Pol, as much as he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, he didn't honestly believe that even she could prevent his fall. He wanted to fight. He wanted to struggle against the coming darkness, but he no longer had the strength.

"No, Trip!" T'Pol squeezed his hands so tightly that the sharp pain brought him instantly back to reality. He took a shuddering breath and tried to pull his hands away. "I will not allow that to happen," she said sharply. "I will not lose you."

"You've gotta quit readin' my mind," he croaked under his breath.

"Don't allow yourself to become a victim. These memories do not have to ruin your life."

Anger suddenly sparked in Trip's eyes. "That's easy for you to say! You spout a few half-assed platitudes and that's supposed to make everything all right." He saw her shock clearly reflected in her eyes, but he couldn't stop himself. "Well, it doesn't work that way. This accident is gonna be with me everyday for the rest of my life. Nothing is ever gonna take the pain away. Nothing! Can't you see that?"

"Have you forgotten that I, too, know what it means to lose someone close?" T'Pol said in a firm yet gentle voice. "I understand your pain."

Seeing the sadness in her eyes, Trip knew that he had gone too far. Guiltily, he dropped his head as his anger began to slowly drain away. "I'm sorry, T'Pol," he murmured. "I was out of line."

"Your apology is accepted." Her words, though formal, were spoken in a warm, forgiving tone. "I know that the return of your memories has affected you deeply, but you cannot give in to despair. I may know of a way…" T'Pol hesitated and looked over at Torok. His brow creased in a frown, but he did not stop her from continuing. "There is a Vulcan ritual, the Fullara, which might help you with your grief."

"I think I've about had it with Vulcan rituals, T'Pol," Trip replied warily.

"Hear me out before you decide. That is all I ask."

"Okay. I'm listenin'."

"When a person undergoes the Fullara ritual, the memories of an event are repressed along with the emotions associated with it. You would not remember your grandparents' deaths. It is possible that your nightmares would disappear. Grief and remorse would no longer fuel your depression. We could return to _Enterprise_, resume our careers and begin our life together."

Trip looked into T'Pol's eyes and saw her concern for him. She was offering him a way out of purgatory. The mind meld had worked. Why wouldn't this Fullara work just as effectively?

"If that is what you want, young man, it can be arranged," Torok said quietly. "When you were a child, your mind blocked all memories of the crash; however, recent events made it impossible for you to continue to suppress the latent emotions associated with the accident. The Fullara could feasibly bury those memories and emotions so deep that they will never bother you again."

Trip tore his eyes from T'Pol and looked at Torok. "Is that what you think I should do?"

"It is a choice only you can make."

Trip gave the matter careful consideration, rubbing one hand absent-mindedly over the back of his neck. He knew that T'Pol desperately wanted to spare him any further pain. A part of him was elated that she wanted to spend her life with him. He'd waited so long to hear those words from her. But was he being fair – fair to her, to his grandparents or to himself? Should he run from the pain or slowly allow it to consume him until there was nothing left? What kind of a man was he? Or more to the point, what kind of a man did he want to be?

Finally, Trip lifted his chin and shook his head. "I can't do it." When he felt T'Pol clutch his hand, he turned toward her. "Please try and understand, T'Pol," he said quietly. "My grandparents died trying to protect me. I don't want to forget that. I don't want to forget them." His voice wavered as he struggled with his emotions. "I loved them both so much. When they…" He swallowed hard. "When they died, I wiped them from my mind as though they had never existed. I can't do that again. I won't do it. They gave me everything. It's time for me to give something back to them."

"I am proud of you." T'Pol reached up and lightly brushed his cheek. "You are, and always will be, an honorable man."

"I think you made the right decision, young man," Torok said. "The time for running and hiding is over. You are destined for more than a life filled with sorrow." The high priest leaned forward slightly. "Now perhaps you could answer a question that has been troubling me."

Trip took a deep breath, held it and then exhaled slowly. "I'll try."

"Why do you blame yourself for your grandparents' deaths?"

Gritting his teeth, Trip was determined to keep his emotions in check. "You know what happened," he stated bluntly. "I was flying the plane."

"Yes, I know what happened. I also know what your father told Soval. The plane malfunctioned. You were not responsible."

"The only reason we went out flying that day was because of me. I insisted."

"Your grandfather not only took pleasure in flying, but enjoyed sharing the experience with you. Isn't that true?"

"Well…"

"Speak up, young man. Did your grandfather offer to take you flying that day?"

Trip shifted restlessly. "Yeah. But he knew it was what I wanted."

"It was a special day, and he wanted to give you something you desired. You, in turn, wanted to spend some time with two people you cared for and respected."

"You don't understand," Trip blurted out.

"Tell me, Commander, if that ten year old boy had been your son, what would you have said to him? Would you have allowed him to blame himself for this tragedy?"

"No," Trip said in exasperation. "Of course not."

"Why then," Torok pressed, "would your son be exempt from blame, but you are not?"

Trip looked anxiously at T'Pol.

"It is a logical question," she observed. "I know that you would do everything in your power to ensure that our son knew he was blameless. Is it so difficult to accept that their deaths were an accident – beyond anyone's control?"

"Yes!" Trip jumped to his feet and began to pace, agitatedly raking his fingers through his hair.

"Trip, please sit down." T'Pol tried to grab his hand as he passed by, but he remained just beyond her reach. "You must calm yourself."

"Maybe I don't want to stay calm!" Trip shot back, immediately regretting his sharp tone. He knew T'Pol was right. His emotions were quickly gaining the upper hand. Before long they would completely overwhelm him, robbing him of his ability to reason. He took a few more steps, finally coming to a halt in front of the window. As he struggled to get himself under control, he gazed out at the Vulcan landscape. Where he'd once seen beauty he now saw only utter desolation: all life, all hope sucked dry by the relentless sun. Squeezing his eyes shut against the glare, he shifted to the right so that he could lean against the rugged stone framing the window. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the overpowering feeling that everything was suddenly falling apart, and he was powerless to stop it.

"I'll say this one more time," Trip began in a tightly controlled voice. "I was flying the plane, and it crashed. My grandparents were only there because of me. How hard is that to understand?"

"You were just a boy," T'Pol countered, her voice a soothing balm on his raw emotions.

"That's no excuse. I should have been able to…"

"…do what, Trip?" T'Pol pleaded. "Prevent the plane from falling from the sky? Mend a severed artery? Bring the dead back to life? Can't you see that there was nothing you could have done?"

Shaking his head, Trip tried to swallow the growing lump in his throat. "I know you're only tryin' to help, T'Pol, but this isn't doin' any good. All the talk in the world can't change what happened."

"You were not to blame. You shouldn't have to suffer for…"

"No!" Trip shouted in anguish as he spun around to face her. "Don't feel sorry for me! They're the ones who suffered! They didn't deserve to die!"

"Look at me," Torok commanded. Breathing heavily, Trip hesitated for a moment before reluctantly turning toward the high priest. Torok took a few moments to study Trip's face before continuing. "It is time to speak plainly. I can see in your eyes that you are still keeping something back. Why do you feel such remorse?"

"I don't think I can make it any plainer," Trip replied vociferously, biting off each word as if he'd somehow determined that enunciation was the key to understanding. "What happened was my fault. They didn't deserve to die!"

"And what about you? What did you deserve?"

Completely caught off guard, Trip stared blankly at the high priest.

"Speak up, young man."

"I…"

"Tell me," Torok pressed relentlessly. "What did you deserve? You were there. You tried to help, but you couldn't prevent what happened. You walked away and they did not. No one deserves to die, especially people close to us, but they did die. Now you cannot forgive yourself. Why? What was your crime?"

"I don't know!" Trip yelled. "Why can't you leave me alone?"

"You have not answered my question, young man. What was your crime? For months now, you have allowed guilt to poison your life and threaten your career? Why? What have you done that is so unpardonable? Why do you continue to blame yourself for an accident that was clearly beyond your control? Is it because your grandparents didn't deserve to die? Or because you didn't deserve to live?"

"Stop!" Trip cried out, reeling as the full impact of Torok's words hit home. Suddenly he knew it was true. It was all true. He'd made the mistakes, but it was always other people who had to pay the ultimate price. He was the one who should be dead, not them.

Completely bereft, he threw his hands over his face and slowly sank to the floor. Drawing his knees to his chest, he cringed as a series of horrific images flashed through his mind. Vince, his grandparents, his shipmates – none of them should have died – not while he went on living. Lizzie should still be safe at home. He was the one who'd headed out into the great unknown. He was the one who should be dead not her. And Sim. Sim had died because of him. He wasn't worthy of such a sacrifice…"

"Trip." He felt T'Pol's fingers dig into his shoulder. When he didn't respond, she pulled his hands away from his face and held on to them with an iron grip. "You have every right to live. Do you hear me?"

"Leave me alone, T'Pol," he managed to choke out. With a blink of his eyes, one tear broke free, blazing a trail down his cheek for others to follow.

"I will not allow you to push me away," she exclaimed. "You must be made to see how wrong you are. Your life has great value."

He tried to pull away from her, to break their connection, but she held fast. Finally, he quit struggling and looked at her beseechingly. "I was nothing. My grandma and grandpa were everything."

"Trip…"

"They were smart and compassionate and successful. Everybody loved them. They were everything I wanted to be. Their lives were worth a whole lot more than mine."

"Of course their lives were important," Torok replied softly, "but do not underestimate your own worth."

Trip shook his head. "You still don't understand." He looked into T'Pol's eyes, willing her to see the burden that fate had placed on his shoulders. "I've cheated death time and time again. Why am I the only one who gets another chance at life?"

"We have talked about this before, young man," Torok interposed commiseratively. "We have no control over who lives or dies."

"That's not good enough!" Trip cried heartbrokenly. He pulled free of T'Pol's grasp and, turning, focused all of his attention on the high priest. "My grandparents wanted to live. So did Lizzie and Vince and the eighteen crewmen who died on _Enterprise_. They all deserved a second chance, but they didn't get it. Why? What makes my life worth more than their lives? Why am I still here?"

"You ask a question which has no answer," Torok responded bluntly. "Man cannot control the whims of fate anymore than he can fathom the secrets of the universe. Some people are taken; some remain. You must accept that and move on."

"But Elizabeth never even had the chance to reach her first birthday. She had her whole life ahead of her."

"It is unfortunate when one so young perishes, but her death was not your fault. She was doomed by the people who created her. There was never any possibility that she would survive."

"You tell me I shouldn't feel guilty, but I do. They were cheated out of their chance to live. I only wanted to protect them – to keep them safe – but I couldn't do it. Can't you understand that? I watched them die. I…" Trip gulped, choking back a sob. "I watched them die and…"

"What, young man?" Torok asked when Tucker was unable to continue. "You were sad? Bereft? Shocked and dismayed? Those, of course, would be normal reactions for a human. Or did you feel something more?"

"No," Trip whispered.

"It is time for you to be completely honest with yourself. What did you feel as your family and friends slipped away? There is no question that you were grief-stricken, but when you realized that you were still alive what did you feel? Relief, perhaps? Were you thankful that your life had been spared?"

Overcome by guilt, Trip bit down hard on his lower lip and looked away. That was something he'd never wanted to admit, even to himself. When confronted with the sudden tragic deaths of people he'd loved, a part of him, deep in the recesses of his mind, had rejoiced that he was still alive. That was wrong. His thoughts should have been focused solely on them: their needs, their suffering, their loss. No decent man would be inclined to feel even a modicum of joy in the face of such tragedy. What kind of unfeeling, self-absorbed bastard was he?

As though he could read Tucker's thoughts, Torok responded sincerely, "Self-preservation is a powerful force. You should not reproach yourself. It is not a crime to continue living when others around us die. I, too, have survived when my comrades fell by the wayside. You can only be found wanting if you fail to make the best use of the extra time fate has given you. You have lived an exemplary life. You should feel pride, not remorse."

"Pride?" Trip could barely contain his feeling of revulsion.

"Yes. You have been given a rare gift, young man, not once but several times over. You have been granted life in the face of almost certain death. Treat this as a blessing, not an unbearable burden. You must focus on the countless lives you have saved. The people of an entire world are alive because of your efforts."

"No." Trip shook his head stubbornly.

"Yes, Trip," T'Pol countered. "If you hadn't kept _Enterprise_ going, we would have failed in our mission. Earth would have been destroyed. Captain Archer could not have accomplished all he did without you. He understood that from the very beginning. That is why he gave the order for Sim to be created."

"There are difficult times ahead, young man," Torok said softly. "The Romulans will not stand idly by and allow the Coalition to flourish. It is to their advantage to foment unrest in this sector of space. You will be needed, not just as an engineer, but as a leader and a bridge between our two worlds. There was nothing you could have done to save your grandparents, your child, or any of the others. But, if you are strong, if you can learn to handle your grief and guilt, I believe that someday you may be called upon to save many more innocent lives."

"How do you know that I won't fail them too, just like I failed my grandma and grandpa?"

"Commander Tucker," Torok said forcefully. Against his better judgment, Trip slowly raised his eyes until he was looking squarely at the high priest. "The time for self-pity and self-flagellation is over, young man. You have been doing penance for a quarter of a century. That is long enough. Over the years you have forgiven a great many people for a great many things. Now it is time to forgive yourself."

Trip pressed his lips together, fighting to hold on to what little composure he still possessed.

"For some reason fate has chosen you to survive. That is not something that can be explained; it must simply be accepted. Now, given all that you have learned and experienced since you crawled out of that broken plane, do you still believe that you failed your grandparents?"

"I know what you want me to say," Trip murmured in a raspy voice, "but I can't…"

"Do not look away," Torok commanded. "You are no longer a child who must seek solace in oblivion. Look me in the eye and tell me what you believe in your heart of hearts. Are you are responsible for the deaths of your grandparents?"

The word, "no," was on the tip of his tongue, but Trip couldn't bring himself to say it. He owed them a debt – their lives for his – and now payment had come due. He couldn't just walk away.

"Trip, you must let go." T'Pol first brushed the tears from his cheeks and then took his face in her hands. He could feel her channeling her strength and support to him. "Your grandparents cared for you deeply. Must their memory always be tainted by pain and guilt?"

"Please, T'Pol," he begged.

"They sacrificed themselves in the hope that your life would be spared. It is the greatest gift one being can give to another. Would you now diminish that gift by placing so little value on the life they saved?" Keeping her eyes locked on his, she began to gently brush one thumb over his cheekbone. "You have so much to offer, so much to give. Don't condemn yourself to a life of loneliness and misery. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for me and for everyone who cares for you."

"I ask you once again, young man," Torok pressed. "Do you honestly believe that you are responsible for the deaths of your grandparents?"

In his mind's eye, Trip suddenly saw his grandparents' smiling faces. He heard the sound of laughter as they lovingly pulled him into a warm embrace. These were the people he wanted to remember, not the broken, battered bodies in a shattered plane.

Deep down, he knew the truth. Perhaps he'd always known. There was nothing he could have done to save them. Unfortunately, knowledge and acceptance do not always go hand in hand. It was going to take a long time for him to come to grips with the part he'd played in their last moments. But maybe T'Pol was right. Maybe it was time to take the first step.

Trip took hold of T'Pol's hands and clutched them to his chest. Turning toward the high priest, he took a deep, ragged breath and whispered, "No."

Torok nodded his approval. "Was there anything more you could have done to save the lives of your fellow crewmen when your ship was attacked?"

Trip gripped T'Pol's hands a little tighter. "No."

"Could you have prevented the deaths of your sister or your infant daughter?"

Trip bit his lip against the pain. Why did Torok have to keep pushing? He'd given him what he wanted. This was too much. Too much, too fast.

"What is your answer, young man?"

Feeling a growing tightness in his throat, Trip swallowed hard. "I would have gladly traded my life for theirs."

"That sentiment is admirable, but it does not answer my question. Could you have prevented their deaths? Were you responsible?"

"No!" Trip shouted in a choked voice. "God help me, I couldn't save them! I…couldn't…save them!"

Suddenly, Trip's mind was permeated by a warmth and understanding far more profound than anything he'd ever experienced before. Taking in his breath sharply, he slowly turned to look at T'Pol. As his gaze traveled over her face, he realized what a truly remarkable person she was. In a completely selfless act, she had opened her mind to him, offering him her strength and providing indisputable proof of her deep, abiding affection for him.

Trip's lips moved soundlessly in a message meant only for her: "Thank you for not giving up on me."

Moments passed. Finally Torok said, "Young man, you have made great strides today, but you still have a long journey ahead of you. T'Pol was correct when she observed that humans are complex beings. Guilt such as yours cannot be overcome in a single day. You will have to work diligently to regain your peace of mind, but it can be done. Your life is in your hands. Make of it what you will."

Completely drained, Trip murmured, "I don't know what to say, sir." Stretching his legs out from in front of him, he slowly released his grip on T'Pol's hands and leaned his head back against the wall. "I appreciate your help, but…well…I wish there'd been another way."

"I know that this has not been easy for you, but you would never have been convinced by words alone. You had to be shown the truth."

Trip dipped his head sadly. "I guess you're right. I can be pretty stubborn sometimes."

Before Torok could respond, a soft feminine voice said, "Excuse me, sir."

The high priest looked over toward the doorway and said, "Yes, T'Lahr. What is it?"

The dutiful young attendant took a step into the wellhouse chamber and folded her arms, both hands slipping inconspicuously up the sleeves of her unadorned white robe. "Ambassador Soval would like you to join him, sir. A situation has arisen which requires your immediate attention."

"Tell Soval that I will come at once."

"Ambassador Soval also asked that Commanders T'Pol and Tucker accompany you…" T'Lahr paused, looking skeptically at Tucker sprawled on the floor with T'Pol huddled beside him. "…if possible."

"Thank you, T'Lahr."

With her message delivered, the young attendant glanced one more time at the two commanders, then bowed and quickly left the room.

"I regret the interruption," Torok said, taking his cane firmly in hand, "but duty calls."

Trip took a deep breath and scrubbed a trembling hand over his face. "Yeah. I guess we better find out what's goin' on." He started to rise, but T'Pol quickly placed a hand on his shoulder, staying him.

"I will take care of this. Go to our room and rest."

"But Soval wants to see both of us."

"He does not fully understand the situation. If he could see your face – see how tired you are – he would understand. I will brief you as soon as I know why he wishes to see us."

Trip shook his head. "I know you're only tryin' to protect me, but if you want me to get my life back to normal then I have to do this. I can't take the easy way out." He gently trailed one finger down the side of her face and along her chin. "Besides, if there's a problem, maybe there's something I can do to help."

T'Pol took a moment to study his face. Evidently she realized that any further attempts at persuasion would be futile because she finally murmured, "We will go together."

Trip slowly got to his feet, taking care not to step on his robes. When he was standing, he offered his hand to T'Pol who trustingly placed her hand in his. Upon rising, she stepped over to the window and loosened the heavy, dark cloth so that it dropped down, once again completely covering the window. While she was tending to the curtain, Trip, who had been scrupulously trained by his mother to help his elders, briefly entertained the idea of offering Torok a hand when the old man started to rise, but he quickly thought better of it. He had a pretty good idea that Torok wouldn't appreciate the gesture.

With the high priest leading the way, the three of them moved through the candlelit room. Upon exiting the wellhouse, Trip was immediately struck by how much hotter it was outside. Squinting, he glanced skyward, shading his eyes against the sun. The blood-red sky immediately reminded him of his grandparents, and he looked away. Matching his pace to that of the high priest, Trip tried to gain some measure of control over his chaotic thoughts. He had to pull himself together. People were depending on him. This time he was determined not to let them down.

When they approached the main staircase, Trip could see Soval standing on the top step waiting for them. It was impossible to miss the ambassador's rigid stance and tense features. Trip glanced over at T'Pol and saw his concern mirrored in her eyes. Something was seriously wrong.

"What is it, Soval?" Torok asked as he climbed the last few steps to the top.

"The _Ti'Mur_ has been attacked."

Stunned, Trip looked from T'Pol to the ambassador. "Attacked? By whom? What's the damage?"

Torok held up one hand, silencing him, and then led the small group over to a shaded area on the far side of the landing where their discussion would not be overheard.

"Start at the beginning, Soval," the high priest said grimly.

"Forty-three minutes ago Captain Vanik reported that the _Ti'Mur_ was under attack. All attempts to make contact with the other ship had failed, but the power signature was Romulan."

"Why was I not told of this at once?"

Trip noticed that Soval glanced his way before answering the high priest. "I did not wish to disturb you unless it was absolutely necessary."

Torok pressed his lips together. "Continue."

"As soon as Admiral Kiran received word of the attack, he ordered the _Sas-a-shar_, the _Sh'Raan_ and the _Tar'hana_ to break orbit immediately and proceed at maximum warp to aid the _Ti'Mur_."

Torok nodded his approval. "Do we know the current status of Captain Vanik and his crew?"

"Admiral Kiran forwarded the most recent update to me five minutes ago. The contents of that message convinced me that it was time to make you aware of the situation." Torok furrowed his brow, but he didn't interrupt Soval. "Vanik reported that the _Ti'Mur_ had disabled her attacker, but long range sensors indicated that there are four more ships on an intercept course."

"Of course, it is possible that those ships are only coming in answer to the distress call," Soval posed.

"Yeah, and pigs fly," Trip muttered darkly under his breath.

Torok glanced doubtfully at Tucker before responding to Soval's observation. "That is a possibility, but you don't believe it and neither do I. It is logical to assume that the four ships comprising this new threat are also Romulan."

"Can our ships reach the _Ti'Mur_ in time?" T'Pol asked. Although her speech was carefully controlled, Trip could still hear the tension in her voice.

"There seems to be some question as to who will reach the _Ti'Mur_ first," Soval replied. "The _Ti'Mur's_ warp engine was damaged in the attack, leaving her with a top speed of warp 2.1. This will seriously limit her ability to outrun her pursuers and rendezvous with our ships."

"And Ambassador V'Lar?" T'Pol asked softly. "Is she unharmed?"

Soval took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. "The ambassador was not hurt. However, three members of the _Ti'Mur's_ crew were killed in the attack. Eleven more were injured."

"If I remember right, the _Ti'Mur_ was en route from Lorillia," Trip said, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing two fingers firmly against the bridge of his nose.

Soval cast a slightly puzzled look at the commander. "That is correct."

"Damn," Trip muttered under his breath before turning away from the three Vulcans and heading over to the wall at the edge of the landing. He leaned forward, bracing his arms against the top of the wall, and dropped his head.

"Trip?" T'Pol murmured. "What is it?" He felt her gently grasp his left arm. He knew she wanted him to turn towards her, but he only raised his head and stared out at the mountains in the distance.

"I should have seen it coming, T'Pol," he said dejectedly. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing and speak plainly." Torok walked over to stand next to Tucker.

Clearing his throat, Trip straightened up and turned around so that his lower back rested against the wall. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to project an air of confidence he did not feel. "Why attack now?" he asked pointedly. "If I wanted to destroy the _Ti'Mur_, I sure as hell wouldn't wait until the ship was less than twenty-four hours from Vulcan. I'd jump them when they were all alone in deep space, far away from any reinforcements. The only way it makes sense…" Trip hesitated. What if he was wrong? What right did he have to make such wild accusations?

"Finish your thought, young man," Torok urged. "I believe you and I are thinking along a similar path."

"Suppose the Romulans were tipped off that their little game with Admiral Kiran didn't work. If they wanted to disrupt the strategic talks, they'd have to find another way. This attack could be their backup plan."

"It is a logical deduction," T'Pol said gravely. "But would the Romulans be willing to risk a war with our people?"

Soval glanced at Torok who gave him a barely perceptible nod. "Our fleet has been seriously weakened, and V'Las' tenure as Administrator did far more damage to our government than most people realize. The Romulans are no doubt aware that we are…vulnerable. This attack could be just the beginning." Soval looked pointedly at Tucker. "If the worst does happen and we are forced to go to war, we will need the support of Earth and the other Coalition partners."

Trip was fairly certain that Soval was trying to send him a message, but right now he really wasn't interested. If the ambassador needed help with the Coalition, Jonathan Archer was his man, not a battered and bruised chief engineer.

"We have been complacent for far too long," Torok said grimly. "Although it is impossible to predict what the Romulans will do next, somehow we must be prepared. We can no longer allow them to manipulate us. I must speak with T'Pau."

Pushing away from the wall, Trip caught T'Pol's eye. "We should be getting back to _Enterprise_. If things start to heat up, the captain may need us."

"That will not be possible," Soval said gravely.

"Why not?" Trip stared at the ambassador in bewilderment. "I can come and go as I please, can't I?"

"Of course, Commander, but _Enterprise_ is no longer in orbit."

Trip's eyes widened. "Where'd they go?"

"Admiral Uhlani was delayed and did not arrive yesterday with Admiral Gardner and Mr. Samuels. The admiral's revised schedule called for him to arrive later today on the _Intrepid_. Given the circumstances, it was deemed wise to send _Enterprise_ and the _Yarahla_ to rendezvous with the _Intrepid_ and provide an escort to Vulcan."

"Has the _Intrepid_ been threatened?" T'Pol asked.

"No. The escort was strictly precautionary."

"Since _Enterprise_ left without us, there must be something we can do to help." Trip locked eyes with Soval, hoping desperately that the ambassador would understand that he needed to stay busy. He couldn't bear the thought of going back to an empty room to do nothing but sit and wait. He needed a problem to occupy his mind, not time alone to think.

His hopes were dashed when Soval replied, "I'm afraid there is nothing any of us can do at the moment, Commander. Officials at the United Earth Embassy have already been notified of the attack and T'Pau is in the process of contacting the other members of the Coalition." The ambassador turned his attention to the high priest. "Surprisingly, Andoria has offered to assist us. As you might expect, Admiral Kiran was not pleased."

Trip ran his hand nervously through his hair. "I can't just sit here and…"

"Perhaps we could contact _Enterprise_," T'Pol interrupted soothingly. "Captain Archer may have a task for us."

"But we should be with them, T'Pol. It's my fault we're stuck here twiddlin' our thumbs while _Enterprise_ is out there tryin' to keep people safe."

"This visit was necessary," Torok said matter-of-factly. "It is pointless to second guess yourself, young man. You are here and not on your ship; that fact cannot be changed."

Trip knew that Torok was right. He just didn't like feeling so helpless.

"T'Pol's suggestion has merit," Torok continued. "Contact your ship and then spend some time in meditation."

Trip rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. He knew when he was beaten. Arguing with three Vulcans was worse than trying to make his mama see the light.

"I guess you're right. We should let Captain Archer know that we're here if he needs us." Trip took a deep breath. "If we hear anything new, we'll let you know." Trip nodded to Torok and Soval, and then discreetly taking T'Pol's elbow, led her down the stairs and into the shuttlepod.

TBC


	29. Chapter 29

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

There are two chapters left to be posted. I would like to thank everyone who has read my story so far. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review it.

CHAPTER 29: TRIP

T_rip, the __**Intrepid**__ arrived safely at 20:47 along with __**Enterprise**__ and the __**Yarhala**__. The journey was without incident. Captain Archer sends his regards and wishes you a speedy recovery. I have gone to inform Torok and Soval that all is well. I know that you will be upset that I did not wake you, but you needed to sleep._

Trip glanced at the message one more time then tossed the padd back on the shuttlepod bench where he'd found it a few moments ago when he'd awakened. While he appreciated the fact that T'Pol had dimmed the lights and covered him with a blanket before she left, he would have preferred to awaken with her there beside him.

Yawning, he stretched half-heartedly and then slumped back against the side of the shuttlepod. He felt like crap. Instead of being restorative, his nap had dulled his senses, leaving him feeling listless and lethargic.

Trip looked around and, noticing that T'Pol had left a water pouch out for him, reached over and picked it up. He popped open the top and took a drink, sloshing the water around in his mouth before swallowing it. His headache was back, but so far the pain was manageable. That was just as well since it was too soon to use the hypospray that the doctor had given him. He took another drink, then capped the pouch and tossed it over on the bench next to the padd.

He knew he ought to get up and do something, but his body simply refused to move. Though he fought against it, his head still buzzed with the fragmented images of long-repressed memories. His eyes strayed to the front viewport. While he'd slept, night had fallen. Somehow that seemed fitting. Ghosts were always more comfortable in the dark.

Exhausted, Trip lay back down on the shuttlepod bench, plopping his left forearm across his brow. Here he was in the middle of an intergalactic crisis and was he on his ship ready to lend a hand? No. Instead of being an active participant, he was cooped up in a Vulcan religious sanctuary, of all places, waiting for news. The sorry truth, though, was that he was too burned out to really give a damn.

After leaving Torok and Soval earlier in the day, he and T'Pol had checked in with _Enterprise_. Captain Archer had quickly briefed them on the situation and then signed off. There had been no assignments, no problems to solve. At a loss to know what to do with themselves, the two commanders had simply stared at one another. Finally, T'Pol had suggested that it might be a good time to talk.

The subjects had been many and varied; however, the salient feature had been their commitment to be completely open and honest with one another. T'Pol had started the ball rolling by telling Trip about her father and the close relationship she'd shared with him. That had lead to a sometimes halting explanation of how the uneasy relationship with her mother had evolved. At Trip's urging, she'd explained some important aspects of Vulcan culture and even taught him a couple of Vulcan phrases. He could now ask for a cup of tea or the location of the nearest bathroom in two languages.

Trip had begun by telling her more about his childhood. When T'Pol asked about his recent estrangement from his parents, he'd told her the whole story, even though it had been painful for both of them. On a happier note, he'd expounded at length on the glories of Tahitian beaches, the Great Barrier Reef, and other exotic locales on Earth he wanted to share with her some day. When he began to tire, T'Pol had instructed him to lie down on the bench beside her. Cradling his head in her lap, she'd gently run her fingers through his hair while he'd told her about his early experiences with Vulcans, including his biology teacher, Mr. Velik. Finally, secure in the arms of the woman he loved, he'd drifted off to sleep.

A smile played across Trip's lips. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, savoring the memory of their conversation. Finally, after years of disappointment and false hopes, he'd allowed himself to believe that T'Pol actually wanted to be with him, not just for a few days, but for the rest of his life. Through their bond, T'Pol had instantly sensed this change in him and had reinforced it a hundredfold. Even in the best of times, they had never been so close, so completely in tune with one another. It had been all he'd ever imagined it would be.

It had been more than he deserved.

Trip's eyes popped open and he rolled restlessly over on his side, his back plastered firmly against the wall of the shuttlepod. Although those few precious hours with T'Pol had been a welcome respite from the emotional turmoil of the past couple of days, his mind refused to give him the peace he craved.

It was impossible for him to deny that the journey into his past had left him shaken and confused. He still felt like the same man, but how could he be when everything had changed? He'd completely blocked out one of the most important events of his childhood. He'd reduced his grandparents, whom he loved dearly, to nonentities. His every thought, every action from the time of the accident had been based on a self-imposed lie. That was tough to take. Instead of bedrock, he'd built his life on quicksand, and it had come damn close to destroying him.

Trip pressed one hand against his right temple as his head began to throb again. He had to pull himself together. Things weren't going to get any easier, and people were counting on him. Somehow he had to turn the quicksand into bedrock, and he had to be quick about it. The Romulans weren't going to back off just because he was under the weather.

Taking a deep breath, he reached out to T'Pol, hoping to find some solace from his mate. He could immediately sense that she knew he was awake. The tension he'd felt in her a few hours ago was gone. That could only mean that Ambassador V'Lar was safe and on her way home.

"_Come to me, husband_."

Even with his headache, T'Pol's message came through loud and clear.

Taking care to reassure T'Pol that he was all right, Trip took a moment to bask in the warmth of her affection before gingerly swinging his legs over the edge of the bench and sitting up. It was time to go. He knew that T'Pol was on her way to their quarters. She would be there waiting for him by the time he arrived.

As soon as Trip lifted the shuttlepod's hatch, he noticed that the temperature had dropped. A stiff breeze now swept around Mount Seleya and across the arid valley floor, occasionally kicking up the red dust into small swirling clouds.

Trip climbed out, shutting the hatch securely behind him. Looking up toward the Sanctuary, he saw flames dancing in the eight large stone urns arrayed along the sides of the main staircase. Dropping his head against a sudden gust of wind, he strode quickly across the tarmac and started up the stairs. Suddenly sharing a nice warm bed with T'Pol sounded like a pretty good idea.

When he'd climbed halfway up, Trip saw a Vulcan start down on the far side of the staircase. Since he was dressed in a black suit and russet robe similar to Torok's, Trip surmised that he was probably another priest. For an instant, the two men made eye contact before continuing on their separate ways.

"Things are looking up," Trip thought idly. "At least this guy didn't look away from me. Maybe T'Pol and I can make a life for ourselves here on Vulcan if we aren't welcome on Earth. I can be flexible. I can learn to adapt. T'Pol would probably be real…"

Without warning something slammed into Trip throwing him hard against one of the urns. Before he could recover, two strong hands grabbed him from behind and slammed him once again against the unyielding stone, sending a sharp pain through his lower rib cage. The wind whipped the flames in his direction and, instinctively, Trip recoiled, only to be felled by a blow to the back of his head.

Groggily, Trip tried to defend himself, but before he could get his body under control, he felt himself being dragged upwards. Breathing in short, pain-filled gasps, he tried to fight back, but his assailant had the upper hand. As they neared the landing, his attacker suddenly stumbled on the hem of Trip's robe. When Trip felt the iron grip loosen momentarily, he realized that this might be his last chance. Throwing an elbow hard into his assailant's midsection, Trip heard a satisfying "oof." Spinning to his left, Trip caught a glimpse of his assailant's face mere seconds before the Vulcan priest's right fist crashed into the side of Trip's head. As Trip crumpled to the ground, the only fight left in him was the struggle to remain conscious.

Before Trip could clear the fog from his brain, the priest hauled him to his feet and began to drag his unresponsive body over toward the edge of the steps. Dimly, Trip was aware of the danger he faced. There was no wall or railing along the sides of the staircase. Patchy images of the jagged rocks at the base of the mountain swam briefly through Trip's head. Slowly, he came to the realization that this wasn't just some ticked off Vulcan who didn't like humans. This guy was trying to kill him.

Gathering his remaining strength, Trip made one final attempt to fight off his attacker. For a moment he thought he had the priest off balance, but he soon found out how wrong he was when the priest threw his left arm across Trip's throat and squeezed. Desperately, Trip clawed at the arm that was cutting off his air, but it was no good.

"Prepare to die, human," a harsh voice hissed in his ear.

As the world began to dim, Trip's only thought was that he hadn't had a chance to say good-bye to T'Pol.

Suddenly, a bright light sliced through the darkness. Trip was just conscious enough to feel the priest jerk once before releasing him. Collapsing under the weight of his assailant's body, Trip tried to break his fall, but his outstretched arms found only air. For a moment his torso hung over the edge of the steps; the only thing holding him in place was the pressure of his assailant's body on his legs. Twisting slightly to the left, Trip tried to find something to grab onto, but he only succeeded in dislodging the body that held him in place. With nothing left to anchor him, he slid over the edge, head first.

For a split second, Trip experienced the sheer panic of free fall before he felt something grab his left ankle. Like a giant pendulum, his body swung back toward the staircase, smashing into the stone and bruising his shoulder.

As he hung helplessly upside down, he could feel strong fingers digging into his ankle. Overhead, he could hear voices calling his name. He wanted to answer them, to try to reassure whoever was up there that he was okay, but that took energy and right now he didn't have any of that to spare. Moments later, he felt two more hands clamp onto his leg, and he was slowly pulled upward.

Feeling a bit like a side of beef, he was hauled up and unceremoniously dumped on the steps. Once again, he felt a strong arm encircle his neck, but this time he didn't feel threatened. He knew instantly that it was T'Pol.

"Are you all right, Trip?" she asked uneasily from her place on the step beside him. Quickly, she ran one hand over the side of his face and down his chest as though she was trying to take inventory.

He tried to speak, but somehow the words just wouldn't come out. Finally, all he could manage was a simple nod of the head.

"T'Pol, we need to get him off the stairs. Doctor Marrek is on the way."

Soval was here, too, Trip noted light-headedly as he struggled to bring things into focus. By blinking his eyes a few more times, he was finally able to see T'Pol's face clearly. She was trying to maintain an unemotional facade, but he could see the look of anguish in her eyes.

"Release him, T'Pol," Soval instructed softly.

Once again Trip felt his body being lifted up, only this time the hands holding him were gentle. When he'd been deposited on the landing, Trip, with T'Pol assistance, slowly managed to pull himself into a sitting position and leaned back against the wall. T'Pol immediately gripped his hand and held on tight. He fixed his eyes on her. With the wind whipping through her hair, she had never looked lovelier.

"It's okay, darlin'," he whispered weakly.

"Trouble seems to follow you, young man."

Reluctantly Trip tore his eyes away from T'Pol. Looking up, he saw Torok standing over him. There was an unmistakable frown on the high priest's face.

"Who grabbed my ankle?" Trip shifted uncomfortably. His body had begun to shake, and that wasn't helping the pain in his side. He was finding it difficult to take a deep breath.

"You owe your life to Major Luvan," Torok answered, motioning toward the tall, aloof man standing next to Soval. "It is fortunate that he was able to keep you from falling when Lieutenant Komas disabled your attacker."

Turning back to Torok, Trip asked, "I know I'm not real popular around here, but why would a Vulcan priest want to kill me?"

"You saw his face?" Soval asked with a trace of wariness in his voice.

"Yeah. We passed each other on the stairs. Who is he?"

"He is a stranger," Soval answered. "We do not know his identity."

"Ambassador."

Soval looked to his right in time to see Lieutenant Komas climb the top step and snap to attention.

"The assassin is dead, Ambassador."

"I thought your weapon was set on stun," Torok replied brusquely.

"It was," Komas answered without a hint of defensiveness. "The assassin took his own life. I was unable to prevent it."

Doctor Marrek, her deep blue robes flapping in the breeze, pushed past the lieutenant and went over to Trip. Kneeling down beside him, she pulled out her scanner.

Trip was so focused on the lieutenant's choice of words that he paid no attention to the doctor. "Assassin?" Trip queried, looking from Komas to Soval, and then over to Torok. "If he was an assassin, I think he needed a few more lessons. He had plenty of chances to kill me. Why'd he try to push me off the stairs?"

When no one else responded, T'Pol finally said, "I would imagine that he wanted your death to look like an accident."

"I don't buy that." Trip shook his head resolutely. "There's no way I'd accidentally fall over the edge of that staircase. For that to happen, I'd either have to be drunk or…" Trip swallowed hard. He could feel the anger beginning to build inside him. "Everybody was supposed to think that I was crazy. Is that it?" T'Pol laid a restraining hand on his arm as his body stiffened. "Just another unstable human who was so weak he committed suicide!"

"Trip, you must remain calm." T'Pol ran one hand soothingly up and down his arm.

"I'm sick of stayin' calm!" Trip wanted to jump to his feet, but the sharp pain in his ribs kept him seated.

Wrapping one arm protectively around his midsection, Trip looked belligerently at Torok. "That guy was a Vulcan priest."

"He most certainly was not."

"He was dressed just like you." Trip motioned toward Torok's robes.

"I assure you, young man, he was not a priest."

"Okay, so he's not a priest, but he was a Vulcan." Trip's breath was coming now in short, angry gasps. "Why would a Vulcan want to kill me?" When there was no reply, Trip pressed ahead, "I know you all think I'm some sort of half-wit…"

"That is not true," Torok interjected.

"…but I know a Vulcan when I see one. That guy's ears were just as pointed as…" Stunned by the thought that popped into his head, Trip abruptly snapped his mouth shut. His eyes darted from Torok to Soval. It couldn't be true.

Grimacing, Trip sat up a little straighter. It was about time for everybody to stop playing games and give him a straight answer. "He was a Romulan, wasn't he?"

"Commander Tucker, you must not jump to conclusions," Soval said tightly.

"That filthy son of a bitch was a Romulan!" Trip shouted defiantly only dimly aware that Dr. Marrek had pressed a hypospray against his neck. "Why won't you answer me? What are ya tryin' to hide?" He felt T'Pol's grip on his arm tighten as the world around him began to blur. He knew he was fighting a losing battle, but he was determined to get at the truth. "Was Romulan…wasn't he?" His voice was now barely above a whisper. "Pointed…ears." Trip couldn't hold back the darkness any longer. Slumping against T'Pol, he closed his eyes and let the drug transport him to a peaceful, pain-free world.

TBC


	30. Chapter 30

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

The last chapter will follow in a few days. I would like to thank everyone who has read the chapters I've posted. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review them.

CHAPTER 30: T'POL

T'Pol stood at the edge of the landing and looked out at the narrow valley which separated Mount Seleya from the surrounding peaks. Through the haze, she watched as, off in the distance, Trip walked slowly, head down, deep in thought. She'd briefly entertained the idea of joining him, but decided against it. He was in no danger. Major Luvan was walking six paces behind him. She knew that Trip needed this time alone to begin to make sense of everything that had been revealed to him over the past couple of days.

After ten more minutes under the relentless Vulcan sun, Trip looked up and spotted her on the landing. He gave a quick wave and began to walk back toward the Sanctuary. When he reached the foot of the stairs, he turned to Luvan and said a few words before starting to make his way up to join her. As Trip neared the top, he halted and looked again at the spot where he'd been attacked the previous night.

Sensing his emotional turmoil, T'Pol joined him on the steps. "You were very lucky last night."

"Don't I know it," Trip answered quietly. "It's kinda hard to accept the fact that somebody wants me dead. Somebody I don't even know."

Using the wide cuff of her robe to conceal her movement, T'Pol surreptitiously took hold of Trip's left hand. She knew it was illogical, but she needed to touch him. The attack last night had been equally devastating for her. She had sensed his surprise and then his fear as he struggled with his assailant. For a split second, she'd thought that she had lost him. The Romulan had come dangerously close to completing his mission. They both owed Luvan and Komas a great deal.

T'Pol glanced down the steps. "Did you ask Major Luvan to stay with the shuttlepod?"

"Yeah. I checked it over before I took my walk, but just to be on the safe side, I thought someone should keep an eye on it." Trip ran a hand through his hair. "I'm becomin' as paranoid as Malcolm."

"You are just being cautious."

"If you say so." Trip glanced down at the shuttlepod one more time. "I told the major we'd be leaving in about half an hour."

"We may be delayed," T'Pol informed her mate. "Torok wants to see us."

Trip used his sleeve to wipe the perspiration from his face. "Do you know why?"

"We were summoned. No explanation was given."

"I guess we'd better find out what he wants," Trip said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. "At least this will give me a chance to say good-bye to him."

Walking slowly side by side, they started across the landing and into the Sanctuary. T'Pol had been given directions to an unobtrusive door just off the main corridor. There appeared to be no chime or bell, so Trip knocked on the door. A muffled voice called out, "Enter," and the door slid open.

The two commanders stood still for a few moments before slowly moving forward. T'Pol had expected another chamber or reception room. Much to her surprise, they had just been given access to a small private garden.

"Come in," Torok called as he stepped out from behind a large dark red bush. "I wanted you to see my garden." The high priest was dressed only his floor-length black tunic. His russet robe hung on a hook just inside the door.

The garden was situated on a large man-made shelf located at one end of the Sanctuary. A seven-foot wall enclosed the garden, ensuring privacy and still allowing the plants to receive the sunlight necessary for their survival. The wall was ingeniously designed so that it blended seamlessly with the contour of Mount Seleya, making it virtually invisible from ground level.

"I was not aware that the Sanctuary had a garden," T'Pol remarked.

"It is not common knowledge," Torok replied. "This is my refuge. Few people are given permission to enter."

T'Pol took several steps forward and looked around. The air was perfumed with a mixture of floral scents and the rich aroma of fertile soil. Deep red earthenware pots in a wide variety of sizes occupied places of honor on the floor and on a series of stone pedestals. Each pot held a different exotic plant. Some species were resplendent with blossoms in bold colors or soft pastels. There were small bushes, ferns, and spiny plants that were reminiscent of the cactuses found on Earth. Vines snaked along stout poles, including an opalescent species that was not rooted in soil, but apparently drew its nourishment directly from the air.

"We're honored, sir," Trip said sincerely as his eyes darted around, trying to take everything in. "I've never seen anything quite like this. It's amazing."

T'Pol found the garden to be to be aesthetically pleasing, but little more. She looked closely at the smile on Trip's face. Obviously, he saw something she did not. Curious, she opened her mind to her bondmate. Instantly, the pleasant collection of pots and foliage turned into a magical world full of beauty and mystery that hinted at grand adventures in far off worlds. She knew she would never fully understand his childlike exuberance for the simplest things, but it made him who he was. This spark had been missing in him for so long. It was good to see the light dance in his eyes once again.

Knowing that she was sharing this moment with him, Trip leaned over and whispered in her ear, "All the beauty in the universe can't compare to you."

She knew she should warn him against making such comments in Torok's presence, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She decided, instead, to take pleasure from the fact that he found her attractive.

Trip smoothly turned his attention back to the high priest. "Are all of these plants native to Vulcan?"

Torok cast his eyes around his garden. "A few plants, such as the nar'ru vine to your right, are from Vulcan. Most are not. Over the years my colleagues have brought me specimens from many distant planets." Torok pointed toward a large plant with a delicate mauve flower. "This species, for example, is a muktok plant from Betazed." He tapped the bloom, and it made a gentle tinkling sound. "The o' aelio…" He pointed to a flat pot overflowing with a bright green moss studded with small yellow berries. "…is native to Coridan." Moving to his left he pointed to large plant with clumps of light purple flowers. "And this is a Bajoran lilac." Reaching over, he gently pruned a dead leaf from the plant. "A few of the species have died," he added, "but most continue to thrive."

Torok took a moment to study Trip. "You still look pale, young man. Doctor Marrek informed me that two of your ribs were bruised last night."

"Yeah. I was lucky." Drawn by the fragrant aroma of the muktok plant, Trip leaned over. Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the plant's unique perfume. Straightening up, he added, "I didn't get a chance to thank the two fellas who saved my life."

"Do not concern yourself. It is not our custom to offer thanks when a person performs a required task; however, I will pass along your sentiments." Torok glanced at T'Pol before continuing. "I believe you also owe a debt of gratitude to your mate, young man. If she had not warned us of your peril, help would not have arrived in time to save your life."

Trip smiled warmly at T'Pol. "I'll be sure to thank her."

"There is something I must tell you in confidence, young man." Torok's face darkened. "You were not the only one who was marked for death last night. As soon as we received word of the attack on the _Ti'Mur_, guards were assigned to many of the prominent figures in our government. Nevertheless, despite our best efforts, Minister Speth was killed."

"I'm sorry, sir." Trip's face clearly reflected his concern. "Please accept my condolences."

Torok lowered his eyes and fingered the petals of the Bajoran lilac. "Speth was a dedicated man. He will be missed."

"Was anyone else threatened?" T'Pol asked. There was no question that she was disturbed by the high priest's revelations. The Vulcan of her childhood had been such a peaceful place. Now all that seemed to be gone. In the past several years there had been one violent act after another. Bombings, assault, murder – where would it all end? And when the end did come, how much of her beloved world would still remain?

Squaring his shoulders, Torok replied, "Attempts were also made on the lives of Kuvak, T'Pau, and six others. Fortunately, we were more successful in protecting them."

Trip tilted his head and appeared to be sorting through the information Torok had just revealed to him. "So those two guys who saved my life…they were really here to guard you and Soval."

"Yes. It is regrettable that we did not anticipate that you might also be a target."

"Did your people manage to take any of the assassins alive?" Trip asked.

"No. The guilty parties preferred death to capture."

Trip scrunched up his face in a look of confusion. "But why me? I can understand them going after the leaders of your government, but my death wouldn't make much of a difference."

"Your death would weigh heavily on Captain Archer," T'Pol replied quietly. "He would find it difficult to continue with the talks."

"I guess so, but the captain's tough. He wouldn't let my death prevent him from doin' his job."

"Think, young man," Torok admonished. "While you were on the drone ship, you saw technology that was never meant to be seen by an outsider. With your engineering expertise, that makes you a very dangerous man."

Trip considered Torok's words. Suddenly, his eyes opened wider. "Is Malcolm all right?" he asked urgently. "If they went after me, they might go after him, too."

"Lieutenant Reed is unharmed." As soon as he heard T'Pol's reply, Trip visibly relaxed. "When the attempt was made on your life, I contacted _Enterprise_. The MACOs immediately took steps to tighten security. Mr. Reed's life was not threatened."

"He will be kept under guard for as long as the talks continue," Torok added, "as will the other delegates from Earth."

Trip grinned. "Malcolm's gonna hate that."

"Indeed." T'Pol lightly brushed her fingers along Trip's right hand. "A guard will also be assigned to you. The Romulans do not accept defeat. They might strike again without warning."

Trip sobered. "You have nothing to worry about," he murmured. "I'm gonna be around for a long time."

Turning his attention to Torok, Trip asked hesitantly, "About our conversation last night, sir."

Torok pruned several fronds from a large deep orange plant that spiraled around a thick metal stake. When he was finished, he turned towards Trip. "You were correct in your assumption. The man who attempted to kill you last night was a Romulan agent." The high priest looked piercingly at Trip. "I considered keeping this information from you, but you would always have had doubts."

"I guess I would," Trip replied. "I appreciate you bein' honest with me."

Torok fixed his eyes on Trip. "I am placing a great deal of trust in you, young man. You are now privy to a secret which, if known, could do irreparable damage to our relations with Earth and the other members of the Coalition. No one must know that the Romulans and Vulcans bear a physical resemblance to one another."

"Admiral Kiran called them your brothers," Trip said in a serious tone of voice.

"Admiral Kiran is rash, but in this instance, he is more or less correct. We share a common ancestry. This secret, which has been carefully guarded down through the ages, is only entrusted to a select few in each generation. The vast majority of Vulcans have no idea that we were once one people."

Trip turned to T'Pol. "Did you know about this?"

"No," T'Pol whispered with a subtle shake of the head.

The scene last night suddenly flashed into her mind. Before they carried Trip up to the landing, she had caught a glimpse of the assassin. The man gave every appearance of being a Vulcan. At the time, she had not wanted to believe Trip's supposition that he was Romulan. With Torok's confirmation, however, it was something she could no longer deny. She only hoped that Trip fully appreciated what Torok had just revealed to him. Lack of trust was already an issue within the Coalition. If there was even the slightest inference that the Vulcans were in league with the Romulans, the results could be catastrophic.

"I understand your concern, sir," Trip said. "You have my word. No one will hear of this from me."

"Good." Torok turned to his right and allowed his fingers to trace along the edge of a large yellow flower the size of a dinner plate. "I am glad that we have that settled."

T'Pol was surprised that she could see the relief written so clearly in the high priest's face.

"You will be leaving soon?" Torok asked.

"We were just getting ready to go when you sent for us," Trip responded. "The events of the last 24 hours have everyone pretty stirred up. When Soval left this morning, he told us that a meeting was scheduled for 1600 this afternoon. I guess T'Pau and the others decided that they couldn't afford to wait for Ambassador V'Lar any longer."

"You do not have to leave, young man," Torok said quietly. "You may stay here for as long as you like. It is obvious that you are still unwell."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate your concern for me, but I better get back to business. I don't want to let Captain Archer down." Trip grinned. "I wouldn't want to disappoint Admiral Kiran, either. I'm pretty sure that he's got me figured for some sort of spineless lowlife. I want to show him just how wrong he is." Trip looked down and ran his hand over the navy blue jumpsuit that had become so much a part of his life. "Besides, when I got up this morning, my uniform was waiting for me. If you didn't want me to leave, I'm pretty sure that I'd still be wearin' a robe." Trip's smile grew wider. "Am I right?"

Torok looked at Trip as though the young human had just passed a test with flying colors. "That is very perceptive of you. I was confident that you would do your duty. 'To whomsoever much has been given, from him much shall be required.'"

"You know our Bible?" Trip asked in surprise.

"I am well versed in the religions of many worlds. The stories change from species to species, but often the messages are the same." Torok's gaze intensified. "Much is expected of you, young man. The coming days will not be easy, but you have the inner strength to overcome the greatest obstacles."

T'Pol could see Trip's body tense slightly, but his voice gave no indication that he found Torok's words distressing in any way. "I appreciate your faith in me, sir. I'll try to do my best."

"I have no doubt of that. Just remember that regardless of what the future may bring, you will always be welcome here…at least for the duration of my lifetime."

T'Pol looked into Torok's eyes and took great satisfaction from the respect she saw there for her mate. She knew Trip saw it, too.

"Thank you, sir," Trip said with quiet humility. "I'd like to come back for a visit. This will always be a special place for me."

"I realize that time is short, but I have something I would like to give the two of you. Over there." Torok pointed toward a small pedestal in the far corner.

Trip and T'Pol exchanged a quick glance before starting across the garden. T'Pol could not deny that she found the high priest's gesture rather surprising. She knew this was not a common occurrence. Torok counseled people. He did not pass out tokens or mementos.

When they reached the pedestal, they discovered that it held a tray of low, creeping plants and two small IDIC medallions suspended on silver-colored metal chains. T'Pol carefully picked up the two chains and handed one to Trip.

"Do you understand the meaning of the IDIC symbol, young man?" Torok asked."

"Yes, sir," Trip answered in a hushed voice.

"Turn over your medallions and look at the backs."

Both Trip and T'Pol did as they were instructed. On the back of each medallion, trapped for eternity in a pale gold coat of amber, were a thorn and a single rose petal.

Torok walked over to join them. "Sixteen years ago, Soval brought me this plant from his posting on Earth." Torok motioned to a rose bush which stood regally in its dark red planter. The vivid red flowers presented a pleasing contrast to the dark green foliage.

"My mama had a rose bush like this by the back porch of our home in Port Charlotte," Trip said in amazement. "I thought roses were too fragile to grow in this kind of climate."

"As you can see this plant is quite content here on Vulcan. Each year I find myself looking forward to the time when it blooms."

Torok took the medallion from Trip and placed the chain around the commander's neck. "If a thorn is left to fester, the body dies. If it is plucked from the body, it can serve as a reminder of our struggle and our ultimate victory. You have allowed a great many things to fester in your heart, young man. It is time to pluck them out. When you look at this thorn, remember how far you have come in your struggle to regain your peace of mind, and the price you will have to pay if you allow grief and guilt to go unchecked."

Trip swallowed hard. Looking into Torok's eyes, he whispered, "Thank you."

Taking the medallion from T'Pol's hands, Torok placed it around her neck. "This rose bush thrives in an alien world. It has a delicate beauty, but it is, in fact, tough and resilient. Just as you have flourished on the human ship, I believe this young man is equally capable of thriving here on Vulcan or in any other alien world you might choose to call home. But you must take care. Just as this plant must be carefully tended, so must a union between two people. If you neglect it, it will die."

Torok looked at T'Pol and Trip. "Trust in each other. Learn from each other. Use your bond to bring you closer together, not to shut each other out. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," they murmured in unison.

"Good." Torok raised one arm toward the door leading out of the garden. "I do not want to keep you. I know you have pressing duties to attend to."

Trip started to make his good-byes, but T'Pol only stirred restlessly. She, as a rule, did not act rashly, but what she was contemplating now was certainly not the safe or easy path.

"Is there something else, T'Pol?" Torok asked, bringing her back to reality.

T'Pol took a deep breath and decided to take the advice of an old friend. "When I first realized that I had formed a bond with Commander Tucker, I was displeased." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Trip's body tense. To reassure him, she brushed the back of her hand lightly across his. It was important for him to hear what she had to say. "I knew I had been careless. It had never occurred to me that a bond could form between a Vulcan and a human. My only thoughts had been for the pleasure he gave me…for the things he made me feel. Nevertheless, I did question whether it was wise to spend my life bound to him."

Vestiges of a frown played over Torok's face. "Continue."

"After the death of our child, I began to fully understand how important Trip had become to me. For the first time in my life, I felt secure and totally at peace. But then he became ill and, in a mistaken attempt to protect him, I pushed him away." T'Pol looked into Trip's eyes. "Recently, I came to realize how grievously I had wronged him. To try and make amends, I made a solemn promise to him that I would never turn away from him again."

When T'Pol saw a smile spread across Trip's face, she knew that she was doing the right thing. "In short, I have decided to follow my heart. Our life together will not be easy, but it is the life I want. I realize that our relationship must remain a secret, but…"

T'Pol suddenly felt Trip's elation through their bond when he understood what she was saying.

Grasping her hand in his, he completed her thought. "…but we would like to make a formal commitment to one another. Under the circumstances, we'll understand if that won't be possible."

Torok studied both of them closely. "Are you sure this is the path you both choose to take?" he finally asked in a serious tone of voice.

T'Pol lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. "Yes."

Trip looked at her with a smile that melted her heart. "There isn't a doubt in my mind that we belong together," he stated in a clear, decisive voice.

"You understand that there can be no formal record of your union," Torok cautioned.

"Yes, sir," Trip replied, "but we'll know that we're man and wife. I guess for now that will have to be enough."

Torok took a moment to consider their request. "I can think of no reason why you two should not be married. Admiral Kiran and Minister T'Lan did not make that demand of you. Since you are already bonded, it is the next logical step."

"Thank you, sir," Trip said sincerely.

"I will make a note of this in my personal papers. It will be available to you, if it ever becomes necessary for you to provide proof of your union. Perhaps someday our peoples will be more enlightened, and the two of you can live openly as husband and wife."

Suddenly Trip's eyes grew wide. "There's no gong." He anxiously looked around. "Does there have to be a gong?"

T'Pol's heart was filled with equal measures of pride and affection. He was trying so hard to honor her traditions. She knew he desperately wanted this ceremony to be special for her.

"No, young man," Torok explained. "The male uses the gong to summon his bride. I believe that we can dispense with that portion of the ceremony in this instance." Torok motioned toward a small meditation mat. "Take your places and we will proceed."

Trip offered his hand to assist T'Pol as she knelt on the mat. She adjusted her robes slightly as he knelt opposite her. Looking into Trip's eyes, she thought back to her first marriage and the emptiness she had felt. Two separate individuals had remained so. There was no union of the mind or body, only a series of empty words. This time, however, when her fingers touched those of her mate, she felt his life force join with hers. In that instant she knew that she had journeyed her whole life to reach this place…at this moment…with this man. He completed her in ways that she could not yet fully begin to comprehend, and it gave her a great sense of serenity and fulfillment.

Torok looked down at the two young people kneeling before him. He extended his hands and began the ancient Vulcan ceremony. "What ye are about to witness comes down from the time of the beginning without change. This is the Vulcan heart. This is the Vulcan soul. This is our way..."

TBC


	31. Chapter 31

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

I would also like to thank everyone who has read the chapters I've posted. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review them.

CHAPTER 31: T'POL

"Trip, you are being illogical," T'Pol said calmly as she slipped out of her robes and into her blue uniform. She watched as Trip picked up one of his t-shirts and a pair of briefs and stuffed them into the duffle bag on the bed. They both knew that they would have to hurry if they were going to reach the meeting in time. "It is only wise for Major Luvan to accompany us on our return to the conference. You knew that he would be serving as your bodyguard."

"Haven't you ever heard the saying, 'Two's company and three's a crowd'?" Trip asked. The frustration in his voice was unmistakable. "What man wants to start his honeymoon with another guy along for the ride?"

"As I told you before, Vulcans do not go on honeymoons," T'Pol stated in a quiet, controlled voice.

"Well, humans do," Trip shot back.

T'Pol looked carefully at her husband. "There is something else that is bothering you. What is it?"

Trip dipped his head and bit his lip.

T'Pol reached out to him through their bond. What she discovered filled her with both joy and sorrow. "We will find a way to be together," she murmured softly. "Our bond…"

"Our bond isn't enough, T'Pol," he exclaimed unhappily.

"It will have to be…at least until we can get back to _Enterprise_. You know that."

"Yeah, I know." Taking a deep breath, Trip planted his hands on his hips and fixed his eyes on the far wall of the room they'd shared for the past two nights. "I guess I just don't take to the idea of sneakin' around like we're involved in some illicit affair. You're my wife. I'm proud of you, and I want everyone to know it."

"You knew the conditions before we married."

"Yeah," Trip answered bitterly, "but I don't have to like 'em." When T'Pol looked at him questioningly, he added, "Don't worry. I'll keep my word."

"Do you remember telling me once that Romeo and Juliet probably stood a better chance of succeeding in their relationship than we did?"

"Yeah." Trip dipped his head guiltily. "I was out of line when I said that. I'm sorry."

"I have read the play." T'Pol reached up and gently stroked his cheek. "Romeo and Juliet were children, Trip. We are not. We have the chance to create a world of our own in our heads and in our hearts. We don't need a room to be together." She touched the spot where his IDIC medallion lay against his chest. "We can bemoan our fate and allow what we have to wither and die, or we can seize what we've been given and live our lives to the fullest."

Trip's smile was still tinged with sadness, but there was a look of hope in his eyes. "You're right, T'Pol. I was just feelin' sorry for myself. I know we can make this work. As long as you're with me – whether you're in my head or by my side – I know I can do anything."

"Ma etek natyan – teretuhr lau etek shetau weh-lo'uk do tum t'on."

Puzzled, Trip wrinkled his brow. "What's that mean?"

"We have differences. May we, together, become greater than the sum of both of us." T'Pol looked into Trip's eyes, two deep blue pools that held the promise of a lifetime of love and devotion. "I would like to think that Surak had us in mind when he said that."

Trip wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "We do make one hell of a team." He touched his lips to hers and the ensuing spark ignited a fire in both of them. They came together in a passionate kiss that marked an end to years of fear, frustration and doubt. There was only elation that their minds and bodies were now bound together inexorably for all time.

When their lips finally parted, Trip murmured breathlessly, "It's about time I got to kiss the bride."

"We must go," T'Pol murmured into Trip's ear as she gently ran her hand over his shoulders and upper back. "Major Luvan is waiting for us."

Trip continued to hold her close. "I know." Finally, he kissed the tip of one ear and pulled back. "There may come a day when I forget to say it, but never doubt that I love you. You're my whole world, T'Pol, and you always will be."

"Give me your right hand," T'Pol said softly. "I would like to show how Vulcan mates communicate their regard for one another. It is far more discreet than the human kiss." She pushed down two of the fingers on his right hand and then pressed her index and middle fingers against his. There was a brief tingling sensation and then an abiding feeling of peace and tranquility washed over them. They did not have to speak of the love they felt for each other; it was all around them, within them, uniting them, eternal.

Finally, T'Pol took a deep breath and lowered her hand. "That was very satisfying."

Trip opened his eyes and whispered in amazement, "I think this is one Vulcan custom I'm really gonna enjoy."

A knock on the door ended any hope of further intimacy. When T'Pol opened the door, T'Lahr informed her that Major Luvan was awaiting their arrival. Trip grabbed their duffle bag, said a quick good-bye to T'Lahr, and the two commanders started down the corridor.

T'Pol looked over her shoulder to be sure that T'Lahr was not within hearing distance. "I've been meaning to tell you that following your attack last night, Torok asked to speak with me. He pointed out some of my…errors in judgment in regards to you and offered some guidance on dealing with my emotions."

"That was nice of him."

She looked out of the corner of her eye, but his face reflected interest, nothing more. "He also gave me some instructions to pass along to you."

"Instructions?"

"Yes. He indicated that your eating and sleeping habits were not conducive to a well-ordered mind or a sound body."

Trip nodded. "Eat right and get some sleep. Check." A roguish grin suddenly played across his lips. "I don't suppose he happened to say anything about making love to my wife?"

"Regrettably, that subject was never mentioned." T'Pol knew that she should find his smirk insufferable, but, in this instance, it only endeared him to her all the more.

The next point had been a bit of a sore point between them in the past. T'Pol wasn't really sure how Trip would respond.

"Torok wants both of us to study the Kir'Shara."

"Actually, I'm kinda lookin' forward to that," Trip replied without hesitation. "So far, I don't see any problems."

His response pleased her. He hadn't spoken in a grudging tone of voice. He clearly understood the cultural significance of the Kir'Shara and wanted to share it with her. If only she had been more sure of herself – and him – a year ago. Looking back, she couldn't help but rue her decision to study the teachings of Surak alone.

"The next offer was most unexpected," T'Pol said as they exited the Sanctuary and made their way across the landing toward the main staircase. "Torok would like you to contact him if you ever feel the need to talk."

Trip stopped abruptly and the duffle bag slipped from his fingers. Deeply moved, he stood quietly with his hands on his hips, staring off into the distance.

After giving him a few moments, T'Pol moved over to stand in front of him. "Trip, you do realize that this is an unprecedented gesture on Torok's part."

"Yeah, I do," he murmured in a voice tight with emotion. "I don't really know what he sees in me, but I think I just might take him up on his offer. If anyone can put some starch in my backbone, it's him."

"Good." T'Pol reached out and brushed her fingertips lightly over his chest. She took a moment to study his face. The lines of grief and pain were still there, but they were no longer as pronounced as they once had been. "Are you still experiencing flashbacks from the mind meld?"

"Now and then, but it's getting better. They don't last nearly as long and the things I see…well, they don't seem quite so real anymore. Dr. Marrek told me the flashbacks should stop in a day or two."

"Will you be all right?" T'Pol asked in a concerned voice. "This conference is bound to be stressful. There would be no shame in returning to _Enterprise_ until you are well again."

Trip clenched his jaw, and T'Pol instantly knew that she had just ventured into dangerous territory. "I know that I'm a long way from having everything straightened out in my head, but I'm not gonna run away and hide," Trip declared firmly. "My place is at those talks."

"I was not implying…"

"I have a feeling that what we do in the next couple of weeks will have an impact on both our worlds for a long time to come. I want to be a part of that, and nothing short of a court martial or another crazy Romulan is gonna prevent me from doin' just that."

"I never doubted you," T'Pol said reassuringly. "Just remember that I am here whenever you need me."

Trip's face softened. "I know."

"There is one more thing that Torok asks of you," T'Pol said softly. She knew that this quite probably would be the most difficult request of all. "He would like you to contact your family."

Once again, Trip surprised her. "That's one decision I've already made for myself." There was no equivocation in his response. "I'll give them a call as soon as we get back to _Enterprise_."

T'Pol studied his face. She wasn't quite sure what to think. She had expected a struggle. Instead, he had quickly acquiesced.

Picking up the duffle bag, Trip took T'Pol's elbow, and they slowly began to walk across the landing toward the main staircase. "My grandparents' death wasn't the only thing I'd forgotten about that period in my life," he explained. "When my Dad realized that I was having problems with nightmares, he slept on a cot in my room for almost a year so that I wouldn't be alone if a nightmare woke me up." Trip chewed on his lip for a moment before he could continue. "We're family and we love one another. I should have talked to him. I should have given him a chance to explain."

T'Pol lifted her head for a parting look at the hazy red sky and the rugged mountains which stood guard around Mount Seleya. She felt the familiar heat of the sun caress her face.

Over the years, her mother had spoken to her many times of the deep, satisfying connection that could be hers when she wed, but marriage was something that had never held much interest for her. T'Pol felt the gentle pressure of Trip's hand on her elbow and stole a quick glance at her mate. Although she knew that she would always treasure the land of her birth, those feelings paled in comparison to the love she felt for the man walking beside her. Much to her surprise, she realized that it was only now – with the completion of their bond – that she was truly beginning to live.

When they started down the stairs, they saw Major Luvan step inside the shuttlepod. Trip didn't say a word, but his sigh spoke volumes.

"You must be patient, husband," T'Pol murmured softly. "When we return to _Enterprise_, I promise that you will have your honeymoon."

- - - - - - - - - -

T'Pol knew that Trip would make the best of their situation, and he hadn't disappointed her. As she piloted the shuttlepod, she glanced over her shoulder and saw Trip deep in conversation with Major Luvan. From the moment they'd left the Sanctuary, Trip had casually probed and prodded until he found a topic that was of interest to the normally reticent major. Despite his rigid posture and stony features, T'Pol could see an undeniable spark of animation in Luvan's dark brown eyes as he called upon his surprisingly extensive knowledge of the Fire Plains to answer Trip's questions. As always, Trip listened intently, taking everything in and filing it away for future reference.

Four minutes later, T'Pol informed the two men that they were approaching the capital. The elegant government building dominated the cityscape. From her vantage point, she could see that there was another Starfleet shuttlepod parked on the cantilevered landing platform which protruded from the upper floor of the building. Evidently Captain Archer and his party had already arrived.

As soon as the shuttlepod powered down, Major Luvan opened the hatch and, stepping out onto the platform, scanned the area for signs of danger. When he had assured himself that it was safe, he said, "You may exit."

Trip sighed and shook his head. "This is crazy," he muttered under his breath. "I'm an engineer. Engineers don't need bodyguards."

T'Pol stepped out of the shuttlepod and turned to face him. "Do not contemplate asking to have Major Luvan relieved of his assignment," she warned quietly. "I will not allow it."

"This place is knee deep in ambassadors, ministers, admirals, and who knows what else," Trip grumbled. "The Romulans would have to be nuts to come lookin' for me."

"Since one attempt has already been made on your life, your argument is…"

Trip held up his hands in mock surrender. "Okay. You win. I promise not to say another word about it." He pointed a thumb toward the entrance to the building. "I guess we'd better go in. We don't want to be late."

They walked quickly across the landing platform, with Major Luvan two paces behind them. When they drew close to the doorway, Soval stepped forward to meet them. Lieutenant Komas was right behind him.

"Good afternoon, Ambassador," Trip called. "I hope we're not late."

"There is no need to rush, Commander. Vaaris and T'Pau have been delayed. The meeting will begin as soon as they arrive."

T'Pol could tell that something was bothering Soval. She fought down a growing sense of unease as she remembered Kiran's threats from the previous day. "Is everything all right?"

"A complication has arisen regarding the _Ti'Mur_. I thought I should make you aware of the situation before you went inside."

"Ambassador V'Lar's all right, isn't she?" There was no mistaking the concern in Trip's voice.

"Ambassador V'Lar is well," Soval responded. "As soon as the Romulans were driven off, she was transferred to the _Sas-a-shar_. Captain Sirek informed us that they will reach Vulcan this evening, well before our other ships."

"That's great," Trip said, a bit perplexed, "but I'm kinda surprised Admiral Kiran is letting the _Sas-a-shar_ make the trip alone. I know the _Ti'Mur_ is damaged, but one ship should be able to provide an escort. Does the admiral's decision have anything to do with the complication you mentioned?"

"I am afraid so." Soval looked knowingly at T'Pol.

"The Andorians," T'Pol murmured and pursed her lips. She found the trace of bitterness in her voice rather unsettling. She'd honestly believed that her contact with Shran had brought about a change in her attitude toward the Andorians, but evidently some of the old animosity still remained.

The expression on Trip's face made it clear that he was more confused than ever. "What do the Andorians have to do with this? I thought your ship was attacked by the Romulans?"

Soval straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath. "Last night, following the Romulan attack, Torok and I closely monitored the status of the _Ti'Mur_. As it turned out, the Andorians had a ship in the general proximity. They answered Captain Vanik's distress call. It was only through their intervention that the _Ti'Mur_ was able to hold off the Romulans until our ships could arrive."

"So far I don't see a problem. The Andorians did exactly what we would have done, given the situation."

"Patience, Commander," Soval admonished. "Allow me to finish."

"Sorry." Trip glanced sheepishly at T'Pol.

"After the Romulans were driven off, we felt sure that the Andorians would leave. However, their captain insisted on accompanying our ships back to Vulcan. Kiran ordered the _Sh'Raan_ and the _Tar'hana_ to remain with the _Ti'Mur_, not only for protection, but also to keep a watchful eye on the Andorians."

T'Pol took a moment to review the situation. After giving the matter careful consideration, she felt there was only one probable explanation that fit the facts. "The Andorians have been monitoring our activities. They want to be included in the strategic talks."

"That would appear to be the case," Soval replied. "There can be no other explanation for their fortuitous rescue of the _Ti'Mur_ and their decision to return to Vulcan with our ships."

Trip whistled under his breath. "It's gonna be hard to say no to the Andorians. Even if they were spyin' on you, you can't deny that they were probably the only thing that kept the Romulans from destroying the _Ti'Mur_ and killing Ambassador V'Lar." Trip paused for a moment. "What does Admiral Kiran think about all this?"

"The admiral is not pleased...," Soval hesitated, "…but so far he has issued no ultimatums."

"Trip!"

T'Pol turned her head in time to see Archer striding toward them. As soon as Trip saw the captain, his body tensed, and he instantly assumed a more formal stance, back straight, hands clasped firmly behind him. Instead of joy, she could only see uncertainty in her mate's eyes.

Grinning from ear to ear, the captain seemed to be oblivious to the Vulcans standing around them. His eyes were riveted solely on Trip. "I don't believe it!" Archer exclaimed happily. "I never expected to see you here, Trip. How are you?"

"I'm fine, sir," Trip said.

T'Pol saw Archer's smile begin to fade when he took in Trip's rigid stance.

Evidently Trip saw it, too, because a smile slowly crept over his face. "You know I wouldn't miss these talks for the world," he said sincerely. Without further hesitation, he offered Archer his hand. "It's really good to see you, Cap'n."

A look of relief washed over Archer's face, and he grabbed Trip's hand in both of his. "You really had me worried. Don't ever scare me like that again." Trip's smile only grew wider.

Suddenly, Archer seemed to remember that they were not alone. He looked around self-consciously and released Trip's hand. Clearing his throat, he said, "I apologize for the emotional display, Ambassador, but I was just so happy see Commander Tucker that…"

"There is no need to explain, Captain," Soval stopped him before he could continue. "I understand your concern for the commander's well-being."

Seemingly reassured, Archer informed the people around him that T'Pau had just arrived. "She'd like to get started as soon as possible."

Soval nodded. "Shall we go in?" Without another word, he turned and left the landing platform with Lieutenant Komas close on his heels.

Trip hesitated when he saw Archer turn to T'Pol, but after a reassuring glance from his mate, he followed along behind Soval.

"I don't understand," Archer said quietly when the others were out of earshot. "Trip seems to be fine. Two days ago…when I saw him…so…" Archer shook his head. "He was so sick…so miserable. I don't know what that high priest of yours did to help him, but I'm very grateful."

"Commander Tucker's condition has improved, Captain," T'Pol cautioned, "but I'm sure you realize that there are no miracle cures. It will take time for him to completely recover from his bout with depression. If it will ease your mind, he has promised to see Doctor Phlox as soon as we return to _Enterprise_."

Archer lifted his chin toward the rubicund sky and took a deep breath. "This is more than I could have hoped for, T'Pol. Thank you for taking care of Trip. I didn't want him to go through that alone."

"Once he understood that Torok was only trying to help him, the commander was surprisingly cooperative. I did very little."

"Thank you, nonetheless." Archer scanned the skyline briefly before returning his attention to T'Pol. "I'd like to meet Torok some day. Do you think he'd see me?"

"I believe it might be possible. You must ask Ambassador Soval to approach Torok on your behalf." T'Pol motioned with her hand. "Shall we join the others?"

The two officers quickly made their way to the conference room. Most of the chairs around the large circular table were already filled. Archer led T'Pol over to two empty seats between Admiral Gardner and Nathan Samuels. She quickly glanced around the table and noticed that Trip was seated directly across from her with Soval on his right and Minister Vaaris on his left.

She knew that Trip was aware of her presence, but he chose not to meet her eyes. They both knew they had to be cautious. They must not give the others any reason to question the nature of their relationship.

T'Pau raised one hand, silencing everyone around the table. "By now you are all aware that the Andorians are trying to gain entry to these talks. The _Zibalik_ is, at present, traveling with our ships. Before they reach Vulcan, we must decide on a course of action. We must avoid an incident, if at all possible."

Admiral Uhlani, a powerfully built man with skin the color of café au lait and piercing brown eyes, stirred in his seat. "Earth is prepared to intercede in this matter if it would make things easier for your people, Minister T'Pau. We understand your reluctance to sit down with the Andorians, but we feel that it wouldn't be prudent to alienate a potential ally."

"Vulcan has already been forced to accept those people as partners in the Coalition," Admiral Kiran observed coldly. "We will not allow them to force their way into these meetings. Dealing with humans is difficult enough. Sitting around a table with Andorians would be intolerable."

Minister Sulin folded his gnarled hands on the table in front of him. "The Andorians will never willing ally themselves with us. They want to see all Vulcans brought to their knees."

"Not at the risk of allowing a predatory power like the Romulans to gain a foothold in this quadrant," Archer countered. "You cannot overlook the fact that the Andorians willingly came to the aid of the _Ti'Mur_. Perhaps they see the benefit of uniting against a common foe. Don't forget that the Romulans destroyed the _Kumari_. I'm sure that didn't sit well with the Andorians."

"They were spying on us," Sulin wheezed. "Andorians cannot be trusted. They are only using the attack on the _Ti'Mur_ to try and gain access to classified information."

Kuvak leaned forward stiffly and tapped one finger on the table's surface. "We are all aware of the old grievances, Minister, but this is a new day. Perhaps it is time for us to consider amending our views."

T'Pol noticed that even though Kuvak held himself erect, his left shoulder drooped slightly and he kept his left arm close to his body. He had obviously been injured by the assassin who had tried to end his life, but he gave no indication that he was in pain.

"I freely admit that I do not trust the Andorians," Kuvak continued, "but we can no longer deny that we now face a far more serious threat. The Romulans attempted to destroy one of our ships. There was no provocation, no warning. In light of this flagrant attack, we must think only of what is best for Vulcan."

"When the _Zibalik_ arrives, let us talk to the Andorians," Archer said. "Maybe we can find a way to satisfy them without formally involving them in the talks."

"I believe we should accept Captain Archer's offer." T'Pau fixed Kiran and Sulin with a stern gaze. "We must not lose sight of why we are here. At the moment, the Andorians are merely an annoyance. It is the Romulans who pose the greatest threat to our autonomy. Do not allow your emotions to cloud your judgment."

Admiral Gardner looked doubtful. "Excuse me, ministers, but do you honestly believe that the Romulans are a significant threat? I know they attacked your ship, but this could just be an isolated incident. One overzealous captain does not mean that a whole empire is ready to go to war."

"One ship made the initial attack," Kiran observed stiffly. "Then four more ships moved in for the kill. The Romulans hunt like vicious pack animals." The admiral lifted his chin haughtily. "It should be obvious to even the simplest mind that this was not just the mistake of one demented individual. This was a carefully planned attack."

"Do not forget, Admiral Gardner, that the drone ship attacked indiscriminately," T'Pau warned. "When the Romulans launch another attack – and they will – the ship in peril could belong to Starfleet."

"I believe that I can speak for my government," Nathan Samuels said ingratiatingly. "Earth will not allow the Romulans to gain a foothold in this region. Vulcan has our unwavering support."

"Those are brave words, Mr. Samuels," T'Lan said, "but I doubt that the Romulans will be impressed." Eyes wide with surprise, Samuels opened his mouth to say more, but she quickly cut him off. Turning her attention to Admiral Kiran, T'Lan said, "Vulcan must be prepared to defend herself. When will our fleet once again be at full strength?"

"We are doing everything possible to expedite the reorganization of our fleet," Kiran replied with a trace of irritation in his voice. "At present, five of our ships are being refitted. They will not be ready to be put into service for at least six months. Our most pressing need, as you well know, is a ready supply of trained personnel. I cannot work miracles, Minister T'Lan."

"We have differences. May we, together, become greater than the sum of both of us," Trip murmured.

"What was that, Commander?" Admiral Gardner asked.

Trip jerked his head up and anxiously looked at the faces around the table. He seemed to be surprised that he'd spoken aloud. Self-consciously, he cleared his throat. "I…I just remembered a saying I heard once: 'We have differences. May we, together, become greater than the sum of both of us.'"

Minister Kuvak studied Tucker for a moment. "While your knowledge of Surak's teachings is commendable, Commander, how does it apply to our current situation?"

Trip shifted restlessly in his seat. T'Pol knew that he was unhappy that he'd focused attention on himself.

"Well…when Captain Archer first told us about these talks," Trip explained haltingly, "he mentioned that there was the possibility of joint maneuvers." He glanced at T'Lan. "The Romulans may not be impressed with humans, ma'am, but they might be unpleasantly surprised if they saw humans and Vulcans presenting a united front. Throw the Andorians into the mix, and I bet that'd really give them pause for thought."

Clearing his throat, Admiral Gardner folded his arms on the table and leaned forward. "Starfleet would welcome the opportunity to participate in joint maneuvers. Given the current instability in the region, I don't think it's a bad idea to demonstrate our commitment to work together to provide for our common defense."

"The suggestion has merit." T'Pau scanned the faces around the table. When no one voiced their disapproval, she turned to Admiral Kiran who sat stony-faced and silent. "What do you think, Admiral?"

"I will not work with the Andorians, but I might consider some sort of limited exercise with the humans, as long it is clear that I am in command."

For the first time all day, some color appeared in Sulin's cheeks. "I do not understand you, Kiran. Why would you agree to this nonsense? By participating in these maneuvers, we will only succeed in placing our weaknesses on public display."

Admiral Uhlani leaned over and exchanged a few whispered words with Admiral Gardner. When they had reached an agreement, Uhlani straightened up and said in a sonorous bass voice, "I understand your concerns, but I think we can make this work. To prove our sincerity, Starfleet is willing to place overall command of this exercise in Vulcan hands."

T'Pol noticed that Archer stirred restlessly, but he made no comment.

Kiran nodded in approval. "I must insist on one more concession."

"Yes?" Admiral Uhlani responded guardedly.

"I must have an observer on your flagship. Humans are reckless. I will not endanger my ships unless I have someone on board who can serve as a liaison."

Archer glanced at T'Pol. "T'Pol is Vulcan. Why can't she serve as your observer?"

"That is unacceptable. She is a member of Starfleet." Kiran refused to meet T'Pol's eyes. "Captain V'Lin is my choice. His first officer can assume temporary command of the _Tar'hana_ for the duration of the exercise."

"You know, having an observer isn't such a bad idea." Admiral Gardner rubbed one hand over his chin as he considered his options. "I think Captain Duvall would do well in that capacity. He can turn over command of _Shenandoah_ to Commander Takahashi."

Kiran glared at Admiral Gardner. "Humans do not belong on Vulcan ships."

Admiral Gardner didn't seem to be phased by Kiran's disapproval. "Quid pro quo, Admiral. If you want Captain V'Lin on our flagship, then we expect you to extend a similar courtesy to Captain Duvall."

"That is not an unreasonable request," Kuvak said.

"We are not advocating that you give the human free run of the ship, Admiral. You may restrict him to the bridge," T'Pau clarified. "This gesture would demonstrate our commitment to improving relations between our peoples."

Kiran pursed his lips. "You insist that I do this?"

T'Pau looked unruffled. "I do not insist, but I think it would be wise."

Kiran thought for a moment. "If I am forced to allow a human to set foot on a Vulcan ship, I insist on having someone of my choosing."

"But Captain Duvall is one of our finest…"

Admiral Kiran did not allow Admiral Gardner to finish. "I will have Commander Tucker, or I will have no one."

Trip's head snapped to attention. Clearly stunned, he stared open-mouthed at Kiran.

"What are you thinking, Kiran?" Sulin rasped indignantly. Age and ill health had diminished his ability to mask his displeasure. He pointed a bony finger accusingly at Trip. "This human is an engineer. The other human…" He struggled for the name. "This…Duvall is at least a captain. Why be content with second best?"

Kiran straightened his shoulders and puffed out his chest. "I am under no obligation to explain my decisions to you, Sulin. I know what I am doing."

"I can personally attest to Commander Tucker's abilities," Soval stated in a clear, decisive voice. "I was present when he was in command of _Enterprise_. He has the skills and mental acuity to be a distinguished captain."

T'Lan tilted her head to one side. "I think the commander would be an excellent choice."

Admiral Gardner shot a quick look at Uhlani. "I have no problem with Commander Tucker representing Starfleet. Do you, Admiral?" Uhlani took a moment to size up Tucker and then shook his head.

T'Pol could tell by the confused look on Trip's face that he was still trying to make sense of what had just occurred. In fact, he was so deep in thought that she seriously doubted that he was even aware that others around the table were moving the conversation in a new direction.

"If we agree to these joint maneuvers, what can we expect from Starfleet?" Vaaris asked.

"_Intrepid_ and _Invincible_ recently completed major refits at Jupiter Station," Admiral Uhlani replied. "_Saratoga_ will be leaving dry dock next week." He leaned over and exchanged a few words with Admiral Gardner. "We can have _Columbia_ back here in three weeks. All told, we should be able to put up twenty-one ships without compromising our security." Uhlani locked eyes with Kiran. "What about the Vulcan fleet, Admiral?"

Before Kiran could respond, the door opened and Major Luvan entered. He located Vaaris and used a few quick hand signals to relay a message. Without explanation, Vaaris rose, walked around the table and followed Luvan out the door.

"There is a matter which must be attended to immediately," T'Pau said as she watched the door close behind Vaaris. "Let us adjourn for today so that we can give careful consideration to everything that has been said here. We will reconvene tomorrow morning."

When T'Pau stood up, all of the humans respectfully got to their feet except Archer, who sat unmoving, eyes locked on Trip.

As soon as T'Pau was out of the room, Admiral Gardner resumed his seat and leaned toward Archer. "Is there a problem, Captain?" When he received no response, he nudged Archer's forearm.

Archer started. "I'm sorry, sir. Did you say something?"

"I asked if there was a problem." Gardner glanced questioningly in Tucker's direction.

"No, sir. I just need to say a few words to Commander Tucker. Excuse me." Oblivious to the look of concern on Gardner's face, Archer got to his feet and motioned for Trip to join him outside.

Reluctantly, Trip said a few parting words to Soval and headed for the door.

Before Trip could leave, Admiral Gardner stopped him. "You seem to have made a favorable impression on Admiral Kiran, Commander. That's quite an accomplishment."

Trip swallowed hard, but managed to keep his face perfectly blank. "I'm just as surprised as you are, sir."

"A lot will be riding on your shoulders, Mr. Tucker. One wrong move and this alliance could collapse like a house of cards."

"I'm aware of that, sir." Trip stood a little straighter, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. "I'll understand if you'd prefer someone else. I know I don't have any formal training in diplomacy. You still might be able to persuade Admiral Kiran to accept someone else."

"That won't be necessary." Admiral Uhlani got to his feet and clapped Trip firmly on the back. "I'd say you've just become a diplomat whether you like it or not, Mr. Tucker. Don't let us down."

"I won't, sir." When Trip had said his good-byes to the admirals, he glanced nervously at T'Pol and left the room.

T'Pol started to follow him, but before she could reach to door, she was intercepted by T'Lan.

"I was relieved to hear that Commander Tucker was not injured last night," T'Lan said in her breathy, high-pitched voice.

"He was very fortunate." T'Pol regarded the minister warily. "He could easily have been killed."

"Apparently Mr. Tucker is destined to have a greater influence on relations between our two peoples than anyone could have imagined. Even if he is restricted to the bridge, he will be granted unprecedented access to our technology." When T'Pol failed to respond, T'Lan added, "Perhaps if things go well, Kiran would consider posting him to a Vulcan ship permanently. What better way could there be to prove that Earth and Vulcan stand together."

T'Pol was momentarily stunned by T'Lan's suggestion. She could accept Trip's absence if he was called upon to be an observer, but a permanent posting…no, that was unacceptable. She knew she should remain silent, but she couldn't seem to help herself. Lowering her voice, T'Pol asked bitterly, "Is this the only way you could find to keep us apart?"

"Knowing Kiran, I would imagine that keeping the two of you apart has never occurred to him." T'Lan seemed to be unaware of T'Pol's discomfort. "As usual, I would imagine that he was focused solely on his own personal likes and dislikes. Evidently, he is now able to tolerate Commander Tucker – at least for brief periods of time in a controlled situation. But you cannot deny that an enforced separation might be the best thing for both of you."

Apparently sensing that T'Pol was not convinced, T'Lan decided to take a different approach. "This is a tremendous opportunity for Commander Tucker. You would not want to hold him back."

"I take great pride in Mr. Tucker's accomplishments, as do Captain Archer and the other members of the crew. I would never attempt to hold him back. He knows what he wants from life and from his career."

T'Lan studied T'Pol carefully. Lowering her voice, she said, "So far I must congratulate the two of you on you discretion. It is unfortunate that we must hold you to your vow of silence." T'Lan tilted her head to one side. "Your situation is rather paradoxical, don't you think? The only way our two species can come together is for the two of you to remain apart."

"Perhaps in time…" T'Pol stopped herself before she went any further. It was pointless to speculate. This woman was not interested in her needs or Commander Tucker's.

"Perhaps," T'Lan said with little conviction in her voice. "Live long and prosper, Commander."

Feeling a great sense of relief, T'Pol watched Minister T'Lan leave. After taking a moment to compose herself, T'Pol went looking for Trip. She had seen the frown on Archer's face. If there was going to be trouble, she wanted to be close by.

T'Pol walked out into the light, airy central hall and took a quick look around. A number of people were standing around conversing in small groups, but Archer wasn't among them. She slowly began to make her way across the hall, searching as she went.

Finally, her eyes traveled to an alcove off to one side where she spotted Captain Archer in conversation with Mr. Samuels. After taking a second look, T'Pol realized that that was inaccurate. Samuels was, in fact, doing all the talking. Archer was clearly impatient to move on, but either Samuels didn't notice or he simply didn't care.

After four minutes passed and Samuels showed no signs of slowing down, Archer had had enough. Brusquely interrupting Samuels' monologue, he said a terse good-bye and, turning on his heel, stalked away. Keeping her distance, T'Pol followed the captain across the hall. When she caught a glimpse of Major Luvan near the exit to the landing platform, she knew that her mate had to be close by. Luvan would not let Trip out of his sight.

When Archer headed out onto the platform, T'Pol realized at once that she could not follow him. While she weighed her options, she slowly walked toward Luvan. Without saying a word, he gave a quick flick of his wrist, motioning her to take up a position behind him. T'Pol complied without hesitation, realizing that the major's body would screen her. From her new position, she could clearly make out the tense set of Trip's features as Archer approached him.

Evidently the talk with Samuels hadn't improved the captain's disposition because he immediately tore into Trip. "What in the hell do you think you're doing? Why didn't you say no to Admiral Kiran?"

Luvan's body tensed, instantly alert to a potential threat. His hand moved instinctively toward his weapon, but he took no action, choosing instead to wait and watch.

Head down, Trip murmured, "Captain, I…"

"You have no business going into such a high stress situation." Archer leaned forward, invading Trip's personal space. It was obvious that he was trying to keep his voice down, but he made no effort to hide his disapproval. "If you lose control, you could destroy in a minute what we've spent decades trying to accomplish. The Vulcans aren't going to cut us any slack because you're having a nervous breakdown."

T'Pol saw Trip's face pale. He stood stock still, unfocused eyes staring down at the platform. She knew instantly that the captain's words had had a devastating impact. Here was tangible proof that Trip's fears had been justified. His illness could irreparably damage his career.

Realizing immediately that he'd made a mistake, Archer turned away from Trip and, slamming one fist against the hull of Shuttlepod One in passing, walked over to the edge of the landing platform. Hands on hips, he lifted his head and appeared to study the passing clouds. For several minutes, neither man stirred. Finally, Archer took a deep breath and, turning back the way he came, slowly walked over to Tucker.

"Trip?" Archer grasped Trip's shoulders and bent over slightly, trying to catch Tucker's eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be hurt you, but please try and see the position you've put me in here. So much is riding on these joint maneuvers. We can't take a chance on anything going wrong."

"I'm not crazy," Trip said quietly. He pressed his lips together and looked away.

"I never said you were."

"But you don't trust me."

"How can I? Two days ago I found you huddled in a corner with tears streaming down your face."

Trip looked searchingly at Archer. "Have I ever let you down when it really counted?"

Archer let go of Trip's shoulders. His silence and his stern visage spoke louder than mere words.

The muscles in Trip's jaw worked furiously. When T'Pol felt his growing anxiety, she tried to send calming thoughts his way, but she doubted that it would do much good.

"Look," Trip said as he tried to find a way to reason with Archer, "I know that I made some bad decisions and allowed things to get out of hand. It won't happen again. I understand what caused my problems, and I'm working hard to put things right."

"I'm glad to hear that, Trip, but…"

Trip squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. "I'm not gonna lie to you and say that I'm one hundred percent, because I'm not…but I am getting better. I have things under control again. Torok and T'Pol have offered to help me, if I need someone to talk to. And I promise to see Phlox when I get back to _Enterprise_. There isn't much more I can say. The decision is yours, Captain. If you want me to tell the Vulcans that they need to find someone else, I'll do it."

Archer studied Trip's face, apparently searching for any trace of weakness or instability. "Are you sure you're all right? Are you sure you can handle this?"

"Yes, sir," Trip answered resolutely. "After my stay at the Sanctuary, I think I have a pretty good idea of what to expect on a Vulcan ship. I know it won't be an easy assignment, but I'm not gonna let Admiral Kiran intimidate me."

"Now I really am worried about you," Archer said as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "The admiral scares the living crap out of me."

Trip couldn't help but grin. "He really is a piece of work, isn't he?"

Archer's smile faded. "So, you know the admiral?"

Trip dropped his head again and studied the surface of the platform as he scraped one foot back and forth. "We've met."

"When?"

"Yesterday. He visited the Sanctuary."

"And the two of you just happened to meet."

"Yeah." Trip lifted his head and met Archer's eyes. "It wasn't particularly pleasant. He made it pretty plain that he doesn't like humans."

"But today he singled you out."

Trip shrugged. "I can't begin to guess how his mind works. Yesterday, he treated me like something you'd scrape off the bottom of your shoe. The only thing I can figure is that he picked me because we'd met. He didn't know Captain Duvall."

Archer nodded, but he didn't look as though he was completely convinced.

"A lot has changed in the past couple of days, Cap'n," Trip said. He folded his arms and took a moment to study the view from the landing platform before continuing. "When we get back to _Enterprise_, I want to sit down with you and Phlox. Something happened when I was a kid and…well…"

"Go on," Archer said softly when Trip hesitated.

"Let's just say I'm not running away anymore. I know I have to face things head-on and deal with them. I'm just askin' you to trust me. I won't let you down."

Archer sighed and wrinkled his brow. "You've pulled us out of a lot of tight scrapes in the past. I've trusted you with _Enterprise_. I've trusted you with my life. I guess I have no choice but to trust you now." The captain still looked a little uneasy. "Just don't screw up. Okay?"

"Aye, sir." T'Pol could still see traces of anxiety behind Trip's smile.

Archer turned to go, but stopped when he saw Major Luvan. "T'Pol told me that someone tried to kill you last night." He turned back to face Trip. "Is that true?"

"Yeah, but fortunately the guy wasn't very good at his job."

"Are you all right?" T'Pol could hear the concern in Archer's voice.

Trip took a few steps to his left and leaned against the hull of Shuttlepod One. "Yeah. Just a couple of bruised ribs."

"Why did he attack you?"

"I don't know." Tense and uneasy, Trip rubbed one hand over the back of his neck. "Evidently he died before he could answer any questions."

"Do you think it was because you were somewhere you shouldn't be?" Archer's frown deepened. "Was it because you're a human?"

"I don't think so. He called me a human, but…no…that wouldn't make any sense. I just don't know, Cap'n. Everything happened so fast."

Archer motioned with his head in Luvan's direction. "Is that the bodyguard? T'Pol said the Vulcans were going to provide you with some protection."

Trip glanced over at the tall, lean Vulcan. "Yep. That's Major Luvan."

"I could send a MACO down if you'd be more comfortable with a human bodyguard."

"No, thanks." Trip motioned toward the city below them. "If it wasn't for Luvan you'd be plannin' my funeral now instead of enjoyin' the view."

Archer pressed his lips together and shook his head. "I just can't imagine who would want to kill you. Did you get a look at the man?"

When Trip hesitated, T'Pol held her breath. She knew that he wanted to be honest with the captain.

Finally, Trip replied tightly, "The bastard attacked me from behind. I didn't get a good look at him. Sorry."

Archer walked over and gave Trip's shoulder one final pat. "I'm glad you're all right, Trip. I'm not ready to break in a new chief engineer just yet."

Trip smiled weakly. "Thanks, Cap'n."

"Well, I guess I'd better get back inside. Admiral Gardner will probably be looking for me." Without waiting for Trip to respond, Archer walked across the landing platform and reentered the building.

Before the captain reached the doorway, T'Pol moved over to a nearby chair and took a seat. Archer passed by without noticing her. That was just as well. She didn't want the captain to know that she'd overheard their conversation.

As soon as Archer had moved well past her, T'Pol rose from the chair and walked out onto the landing platform, acknowledging Luvan as she passed by him. Trip was still leaning against the shuttlepod with his arms folded and head bowed. He didn't look up when she walked over to him.

"You heard?"

"Yes," she answered quietly.

"I wanted to tell him the truth, T'Pol."

"I know. You did what had to be done."

Trip finally looked up and met her eyes. "Yeah, but I don't feel too good about myself right now. I'm not sure the captain would ever forgive me if he knew I was keepin' secrets from him."

T'Pol wanted to comfort her mate, but they were in a public place. They couldn't risk being seen in a compromising position. The best she could do was offer solace through their bond and words of support. "Under the circumstances, there was nothing else you could have done. I believe you proved to Captain Archer that you are ready to return to duty."

T'Pol saw movement out of the corner of her eye and turned in time to see Lieutenant Komas exchange a few words with Major Luvan. As soon as Komas turned to go, Luvan headed in their direction. He moved with the confidence and precision of a professional soldier.

"Ambassador Soval asks that you remain here," Luvan said when he reached the two commanders. "The rest of your delegation will be arriving momentarily. Rooms have been prepared for you at the United Earth Embassy."

Trip tilted his head and stuck his tongue firmly in his cheek. After studying the major for a moment he said, "I suppose you're comin' with us."

"Of course." Luvan's features remained scrupulously blank.

"Are you plannin' on bein' my roommate tonight, Major?" Trip looked longingly at T'Pol out of the corner of his eye.

"I could take up a position outside your door, if you would find that more convenient," Luvan replied.

Sighing, Trip ran his fingers through his hair. "That won't be necessary. I'd never deny a man a decent night's sleep."

Luvan's right eyebrow shot up. "I do not intend to sleep, Commander."

"Right." Trip slowly pushed away from the shuttlepod and stood up straight. "I'll appreciate the company."

"If you will excuse me, I have a few last minute details to attend to." With a nod, Luvan walked off, leaving Trip and T'Pol alone.

"I'm sorry, Trip," T'Pol murmured. "I know this isn't the way you wanted to spend our first night together."

Trip looked at her and smiled. "It can't be helped. Luvan seems like a nice enough guy."

"Do you have any idea why Kiran singled you out?"

Trip shook his head. "Absolutely none. As far as I know, he still hates my guts. Maybe he figures that once I'm on the Vulcan ship, he can set me up." When Trip saw the uncertain look on her face, he clarified, "You know, create an incident. Put me in a situation where I come off lookin' like I'm incompetent or uncooperative."

"You must not give him cause to find fault with you."

Trip held up one hand, palm forward. "I promise to be on my best behavior."

"I know." T'Pol heard the faint buzz of conversation and turned toward the entrance to the government building. In doing so she brushed her upper arm against his. The contact appeared innocent enough, but it sent a satisfying spark coursing through both of their bodies. T'Pol carefully schooled her features and said, "The others are coming."

Trip followed her eyes. They watched as Admiral Gardner strode onto the landing platform with Admiral Uhlani, Captain Archer and Mr. Samuels close behind him. T'Pol saw Archer motion toward the two commanders. Mr. Samuels hesitated and then exchanged a few more words with Archer. Finally, with obvious reluctance, Samuels peeled away from the others and headed in the direction of Shuttlepod One.

"There's one more thing, T'Pol," Trip murmured. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "I think you'd better start teachin' me Vulcan."

This time she turned her head and, looking him straight in the eye, raised one eyebrow questioningly. It was a logical request, but one she had not expected.

"Just a few key phrases," Trip continued wryly. "I was thinkin' of something along the lines of 'it's not my fault' or 'you must have misunderstood'…that sort of thing." Trip looked at her and grinned.

Looking straight ahead again, T'Pol squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "I think that is an excellent idea. I will obtain a copy of the program Vulcan children use when they first begin to read. We can begin your lessons tomorrow morning." She took secret pleasure when she sensed the wild swing in her husband's emotions from outrage to quiet amusement.

By the time Samuels reached the shuttlepod, Luvan had moved forward to join them. He raised the hatch and, with a sullen nod of recognition, Samuels entered.

Taking a deep breath, Trip motioned for T'Pol to precede him. Thankful for Trip's inherent good manners, she entered the shuttlepod and slid into the pilot's seat. She did not want to have to deal with Samuels.

When everyone was aboard, Luvan secured the hatch and took a seat next to Trip. T'Pol could sense her mate's dissatisfaction. She knew that he didn't have a very high opinion of Samuels. Fortunately, rationalization was not strictly confined to the human species. She saw this as the perfect opportunity for Trip to begin practicing his diplomatic skills.

- - - - - - - - - -

T'Pol's eyes flew open. Looking around her darkened room at the United Earth Embassy, she took a moment to try and determine what had awakened her. Hearing nothing out of the ordinary, she stretched languorously and reached for her husband, only to discover that she was alone. Just as she was about to call out to Trip, she remembered that he was safely ensconced in a room on the floor above her. Rolling over, she placed her hand on the spot where Trip by rights should be lying and tried to return to the dream-like state which had enabled her to be with him.

Suddenly, she heard a gentle buzzing sound. She immediately rolled over and activated the room's comm system. "This is Commander T'Pol."

"There is a Lieutenant Komas down at the reception desk, Commander," a deep male voice replied. "He would like to speak with you privately."

T'Pol looked at the clock on her bedside table. It was 0230. "Tell the lieutenant I will meet him in the waiting room as soon as I am dressed." Throwing back the covers, she rose and started to unbutton her light blue pajama top. 

Seven minutes later, T'Pol walked along the green marble floor of the embassy's central corridor. As she approached the reception desk, she nodded to the burly Starfleet security officer on duty. He immediately returned her nod and pointed to the waiting room on her left.

Even though certain parts of the embassy were still under construction, the large, richly appointed waiting room had been repaired and refurnished since the explosion over a year ago. In the center of the room, the seal of United Earth was woven into the deep blue carpet. Incongruously, a large, fully functional fireplace with an ornate mantel dominated the wall to the left. To the right, three matching couches, upholstered in rich gold damask, lined the wall. Arm chairs upholstered in pale gold silk striped with three shades of blue were scattered around the room. The chairs, paired with small marble-topped tables, were arranged to form conversation areas.

Komas, dressed as before in the grey uniform of the Security Ministry, was standing across the room, staring out of a large window of one-way glass which took up most of the far wall. The lieutenant turned towards her as soon as he heard her enter the room. As expected, the young officer's thin face and expressionless eyes told her nothing about the purpose of his visit.

Moving forward, Komas met her near the center of the room. He took a quick look around to ensure that they would not be overheard. "I am here at the request of Ambassador Soval. He assumed a rigid stance with his shoulders squared and his hands clasped firmly behind his back. "He would like to meet with you and Commander Tucker."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow inquiringly. "The ambassador does not usually conduct business in the early morning hours," she replied warily. "Why does he want to see us?"

"Ambassador Soval did not confide in me. I have been entrusted with the location of the meeting and nothing more." It was all too obvious that Komas thought that T'Pol should respond immediately. When she did not, his eyes narrowed slightly. "Will you awaken Commander Tucker or would you prefer that I perform that task?"

T'Pol studied the dark brown eyes for any trace of duplicity. She knew that Soval trusted the young man, but in these difficult times, it paid to be careful. "Did the ambassador send a personal message for me?"

Komas patted the side of his grey uniform tunic before reaching into his pocket and producing a small disk which he handed to T'Pol.

Cradling the disk in both hands, T'Pol moved away from Komas. The disk was only three inches in diameter and a quarter of an inch deep, but she knew that the information it contained would help to relieve her mind. She pressed both of her thumbs against the top of the disk. Her thumbprints registered immediately and the top spiraled open.

Soval's image appeared and he began to speak. "T'Pol, it is imperative that I see you and Commander Tucker at once. The Security Ministry has uncovered evidence which clearly shows that Vulcan is in grave danger. Time is running short. Trust Komas. I have known his family for many years. He will not betray us." With Soval's final word, the lid spiraled shut again.

Deep in thought, T'Pol held the disk for a moment longer before retracing her steps and placing the disk in Komas' outstretched hand.

"Will you wake Commander Tucker or shall I?" Komas asked again.

"I will see to it," T'Pol murmured. She could see a barely perceptible look of relief flit across the young man's face. "Please wait here."

When T'Pol reached Trip's room, she knocked softly on the door. She had only a moment to check up and down the hall to be sure that she was still alone before the door slid open.

Luvan quickly motioned her inside. The room was dark except for a nightlight visible through the open door to the bathroom. "What is it?" he asked as the door slid shut behind her.

"We must leave immediately."

"Will we be coming back here?" Luvan asked quietly as he holstered his side arm.

T'Pol pressed her lips together before answering. "I do not know."

She walked over to the bed where Trip was sleeping. Looking down at her husband, she regretted having to wake him, but it couldn't be helped. She turned on the small metal lamp which sat on the nightstand. When that had no effect, she took hold of Trip's shoulder and shook him gently.

Trip woke with a start. When he saw T'Pol standing over him, he closed his eyes and allowed his head to fall back on his pillow. "What time is it?" he mumbled.

"It is 0250. You must get up and dress."

Trip squinted at her. "What's wrong? Has something happened?"

"Ambassador Soval wants to see us."

"Now?" Trip groaned. "It's the middle of the night. What is it with you Vulcans? Couldn't this wait 'til morning?"

"Evidently not." T'Pol pulled the covers back, revealing Trip in his blue t-shirt and briefs. "Soval indicated that there was some urgency."

Trip slowly sat up and scrubbed a hand over his eyes. "Okay, okay. Keep your britches on." Pointing to the closet door, he muttered, "Hand me my uniform."

Ten minutes later they were in a Vulcan shuttle, heading out of the city. At first, T'Pol tried to keep track of where they were going, but there was little moonlight, and Komas appeared to be intentionally altering course to keep the location of their destination a secret.

Finally, when Trip took a deep breath and stretched, T'Pol gave up and turned her attention to her mate.

"Do you know where we're headed," Trip asked.

"No," T'Pol replied. "Ambassador Soval did not provide me with any details. He only requested that we come as soon as possible."

"Great. I think the Ambassador and I need to have a little chat. I could really do without all this cloak-and-dagger nonsense."

T'Pol understood why he was grumpy, but these negative feelings would serve no useful purpose. It would be best to change the subject. "Did you find time to meditate last evening?"

Trip glanced guiltily over at the major. "Not really. I was feelin' sort of…um…"

"Frustrated?"

Trip nodded his head once and refused to meet T'Pol's eyes. "I needed something to keep my mind occupied."

"That is one of the purposes of meditation," T'Pol explained quietly. "It allows you to put everyday concerns aside for a brief time and focus your attention on restoring your mind and body."

Looking down at the deck, Trip rested his forearms on his thighs. "I'm not sure that would've worked last night," he mumbled.

T'Pol noticed that her husband's face was slightly redder that it had been a moment ago. Evidently, he was not completely comfortable with their topic of conversation.

"The commander found a deck of playing cards in a drawer," Luvan finally revealed. "He taught me how to play a game called gin rummy and then…" Trip looked up and shook his head frantically in a futile attempt to stop the major from continuing. "…we discussed the merits of some of the women we have known over the years." One of Luvan's eyebrows crept up slightly. "The commander has led a most interesting life."

Trip squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. When he opened them again and looked over at the major, Luvan's chiseled features were as impassive as ever.

Shifting restlessly, Trip turned to face his mate. "We just played cards for awhile," he pleaded quietly. "That's all." T'Pol took some satisfaction from his slightly anxious tone of voice. "When I got sleepy, I went to bed."

Although she would never admit it, T'Pol had experienced jealousy in the past and found it to be both unpleasant and unproductive. She would not stoop to that again. Besides, it was obvious from the abashed look on Trip's face that he knew he had made a serious error. That would have to do for the time being. This was neither the time nor the place to question him further about his indiscretions. She would wait until they were alone.

"Commander Tucker is free to discuss any subject he desires," T'Pol said frostily. "As a fellow Starfleet officer, I can only take him to task when his words endanger our mission, our ship, or the crew. Unfortunately, I cannot discipline him for poor taste." T'Pol tried to keep any hint of emotion out of her voice, but she wasn't sure that she had been completely successful.

Trip looked at her uncertainly at first, but then slowly his features became more resolute. "Sometimes men just need to talk, Commander." His voice was quiet but firm. "Nothing inappropriate was said. No confidences were breached. Nothing that happened need concern you."

T'Pol was saved from having to respond to Trip's remarks when Komas said, "We have arrived at our destination."

Within moments they were on the ground. Komas opened the hatch and then stepped back, allowing Luvan to exit and check the surrounding area. When the all clear was given, T'Pol stepped out of the shuttle. She took a quick look around, but in the dark nothing looked familiar. Shivering slightly against the chill in the air, she could make out a few rolling hills and little else. They were obviously far away from any settled areas.

Komas led them toward a low-lying hill off to the right. They had only gone about ten feet when Komas' passage activated a beam which quickly scanned his body. When the scan was finished, a door, all but invisible in the surrounding sand and rock, slid open to reveal a room populated by four heavily armed guards. Komas identified himself and the air rippled slightly as a force field was deactivated. One of the guards carefully studied the padd Komas handed him before motioning to a second guard who had taken up a position across the room. Turning, the second guard entered a code on a panel on the far wall. When he leaned forward, allowing a beam to scan his eyes, another door slid opening revealing a turbolift not unlike the one on _Enterprise_.

Luvan quickly ushered Trip and T'Pol forward. When they were all aboard, Komas said, "Vok veh," and the turbolift began to quickly descend deep into the ground.

Upon reaching level one, the turbolift doors opened onto a stark off-white corridor. Five members of the Security Ministry stood guard at evenly spaced intervals along the corridor. Their unadorned grey uniforms did little to relieve the unrelenting monotony.

"Follow me," Komas said and started down the hall. Trip and T'Pol fell in behind him.

"What is this place?" T'Pol asked quietly. She immediately took note of the faint antiseptic smell in the air.

When Komas did not answer, Luvan replied in a subdued voice, "The High Command had this facility built in case an emergency forced the government to take shelter in a secure facility. Its location is known to only a few carefully selected people."

T'Pol could feel Trip's uneasiness. She knew that he wanted to question Luvan further, but he remained silent.

They passed an intersecting corridor and continued on until they reached a dead end. As soon as they turned right down a look-alike corridor, T'Pol became aware of an unpleasant odor. She glanced at Trip, but, he gave no indication that he smelled anything out of the ordinary.

On their right, a large window set into the wall allowed them to look into a well-equipped laboratory in which several Vulcan technicians worked, oblivious to their presence. As they neared an open doorway on the other side of the corridor, Trip glanced nervously at T'Pol, and she knew that he, too, had become aware of the stench.

Komas walked passed the open doorway, but as soon as Trip saw what was inside, he came to an abrupt halt. In and of itself, the large room was unremarkable. Banks of coolers lined the back wall. There were two sturdy metal sinks connected by a row of cabinets on the walls to the left and to the right, and six metal tables were lined up side by side across the center of the room. The room was unoccupied except for a badly charred body on each of the two middle tables. It was apparent that autopsies had recently been performed because the chest cavities were still lying open.

T'Pol fought to maintain her composure. She knew that, like her, Trip was repulsed and sickened by the sight before them.

"Is this why we were brought here?" Trip choked out. "To see this?" There was a spark of anger in his eyes as he looked at Luvan. Komas had stopped and turned back towards them, but before he could answer Trip, someone else spoke.

"This is only part of the reason you were summoned, Commander Tucker."

T'Pol looked past Luvan and saw T'Pau walking towards them. Vaaris and Soval followed close behind her.

Trip whipped around and pointed angrily toward the bodies in the morgue. "If you hauled us out of bed in the middle of the night to look at these two dead bodies, it was a waste of everybody's time. We don't know anything about this."

T'Pau calmly motioned down the hallway. "Join us, Commanders. All will be explained."

Trip took one last look at the bodies in the morgue and then, with T'Pol matching him step for step, followed T'Pau down the corridor. When they reached the end of the hall, Komas opened a door and stood back as T'Pau entered what appeared to be a small library. Monitors lined a counter along the wall to the left. On the other three walls, books, padds and other reading materials sat in neat rows on metal shelves. Two round, utilitarian metal tables sat in the center of the room. Around each table were three metal chairs with straight backs and thin blue upholstered cushions on the seats. Several matching arm chairs with blue upholstered seats and backs were scattered in random fashion around the library.

Komas and Luvan entered the room, but stationed themselves on either side of the door. The other Vulcans immediately took seats at one of the two small tables. Moving to the far table, Trip grabbed the straight chair next to T'Pol and turned it around so that he could sit with his arms resting on the back.

As soon as everyone was settled, Trip asked, "So, are you gonna tell us why we're here?"

T'Pau folded her hands primly on the table. "What we are about to tell you, Commander Tucker…Commander T'Pol, must be kept in strictest confidence. Ambassador Soval assures me that you can be trusted." T'Pau's eye slid quickly to Soval who occupied the seat next to T'Pol. "I hope he is correct."

"T'Pol and I know how to keep our mouths shut," Trip responded testily. He fixed his eyes firmly on T'Pau. "Besides, you wouldn't have hauled us all the way out here to this godforsaken hole in the ground if you hadn't already decided to trust us. So let's get on with it."

"As you wish, Commander." T'Pau appeared to take no offense at Trip's blunt response. In fact, she seemed to appreciate his no-nonsense approach. "The two bodies have been identified as belonging to Administrator V'Las and Major Talok."

Startled, T'Pol fought to keep her emotionless mask in place. "Are you sure there has been no mistake?" She hadn't known Major Talok well, but he had at one time been a colleague. This was not the sort of death she would wish for anyone.

"We have performed all of the required tests," T'Pau replied. "The results are conclusive."

Trip chewed on his lip as he carefully considered T'Pau's revelation. "Was it an accident or were they murdered?"

"They died trying to evade capture, Commander. Their deaths can in no way be seen as murder."

Trip's face clearly showed his confusion. "I don't understand."

"After he was removed from power, V'Las went into hiding. Despite their best efforts, the Ministry of Security was unable to locate him until yesterday. He only showed himself because he thought the assassination attempts had succeeded. It was his intention to seize the government and, with Major Talok's assistance, pave the way for a Romulan invasion."

"Is that why the meeting was cut short yesterday?" T'Pol asked.

"Yes. We were waiting for the autopsy results. Their identities had to be verified before we could move forward. It is regrettable that the shuttle was shot down when they tried to make their escape. We would have preferred to take them both alive for questioning." T'Pau lifted her chin. She instantly took on the intense look of a warrior. "You see, our tests revealed that Major Talok was Romulan. He could have undoubtedly told us a great deal…with the proper persuasion."

Trip shook his head as if he was trying to clear away the cobwebs. T'Pol understood his incredulity. It was a lot to take in.

"How did you find out about V'Las?" Trip asked in a bewildered tone of voice.

As though by some predetermined signal, the narrative passed smoothly from T'Pau to Minister Vaaris. Only slightly taller than T'Pol, with a thin build and delicate features, Vaaris was not an imposing figure; however, as soon as he spoke, that perception changed. With his rich voice and authoritative presence, Vaaris was instantly transformed into a person who commanded attention.

"We were alerted to the potential threat by Admiral Kiran."

"Kiran?" Stunned, Trip looked at T'Pol.

"Months ago, V'Las approached Kiran in secret. He asked the admiral to help him regain control of our government. He knew that Kiran was dissatisfied with the Coalition and our commitment to work more closely with the humans." Vaaris folded his hands on the table. He evidently perceived that Trip was skeptical about the administrator's abilities because he added, "You did not see V'Las at his best, Commander Tucker. He could be very persuasive."

"So what changed the admiral's mind?" Trip asked, tilting his head as he tried to make sense of things.

"Apparently, you did, Commander." Vaaris raised one eyebrow clearly showing that he was as surprised by this as Trip was. "You planted the seeds of doubt in the admiral's mind. Not long after you spoke with him, Kiran was once again contacted by V'Las. He tried to convince the admiral that the government was controlled by Syrannite terrorists and, therefore, must be overthrown. But this time Kiran wasn't fooled. He pretended to go along with V'Las and then came straight to me. We purposely spread the word that the assassination attempts had succeeded. When V'Las showed himself the next day, we were ready."

Trip bowed his head and studied the tabletop in front of him. "I guess I owe the admiral an apology," he said quietly. "I misjudged him."

"Kiran may have his faults," Soval said, "but he is unfailingly loyal to Vulcan. Thanks to you, Mr. Tucker, he was finally able to see V'Las for the traitor he was and acted accordingly."

"Apparently, we have been teetering on the brink and did not know it," T'Pol observed in a carefully controlled voice.

"Precisely," Soval replied solemnly.

Restlessly kneading one hand with the other, Trip got to his feet and walked to the far end of the room. "With all due respect, ma'am," he said, turning to face T'Pau, "I'm still not sure why I'm here. Did you want me to pass this information along to Captain Archer and the rest of our delegation?"

"Bear with us for a little longer, Commander." T'Pau signaled for Vaaris to continue.

"We were fortunate." Vaaris leaned back in his chair and, reaching into his robe, produced several damaged data disks. "When the shuttle was shot down, we were concerned that everything had been destroyed, but…"

"Those belonged to V'Las?" Trip took a few steps forward to get a better look.

"I believe so," Vaaris replied. "They were hidden in the shuttle. I knew Major Talok. He was not a careless man. He would have made sure that such sensitive information was destroyed before he tried to leave Vulcan."

"I take it that you were able to recover some of the information on the data disks," T'Pol observed.

"Yes." T'Pau reached over and took one of the disks from Vaaris. "The information on this disk was largely intact. It contains a timetable for the conquest of Vulcan. Their plan was to be set in motion by the assassinations and V'Las' subsequent seizure of the government. Our actions over the past few days may force the Romulans to reconsider portions of their plan, but they will not be deterred for long."

This threat to her home world shook T'Pol far more than she cared to admit. With her attention focused on the data disk, it took a few moments for her to realize that Trip had closed the distance between them and now stood quietly behind her chair. He made no effort to touch her, but sensing her distress, he was there to offer his support if she needed it.

Vaaris held up two more data disks. "These disks were badly damaged, but from the information we were able to recover, we know that the Romulans will soon renew their efforts to destabilize this sector of space. They believe that the time is right to expand their empire." Vaaris looked pointedly at Trip. "They do not intend to stop at Vulcan, Commander Tucker. Earth is also in danger."

"Why don't you just tell everybody about this at the meeting later today?" Trip took a firm grip on the back of T'Pol's chair. "It doesn't make much sense for me to pass this along second hand."

Shifting in his chair, Soval looked up at Trip. "We do not intend for the other humans to learn of V'Las' fate or the manner in which this information came into our possession."

"But that's crazy," Trip exclaimed. "Admiral Gardner and the others need to know about this."

"No." T'Pau brought one palm firmly down on the table. "Sit down, Commander, and listen carefully."

Seeing nothing but stern, emotionless faces, Trip slid back into his chair.

"Think how Starfleet might view this situation," T'Pau said. "V'Las was the Administrator of our government. Major Talok was a trusted member of the Security Ministry. One of the assassins served as an attache in our embassy on Earth for the past nineteen years. We know that other Romulans or Romulan sympathizers have infiltrated our government, but we do not, as yet, know who they are. Speth was trying to identify these infiltrators when he was killed. Do you honestly believe that we would have Earth's unqualified support if we revealed that the Romulans had infiltrated our government to this extent? How could we ever convince Admiral Gardner and the others that we were trustworthy?"

T'Pol could feel Trip's inner struggle. She knew he was desperately trying to find a way to protect Vulcan without concealing information from his own people. Unfortunately, she knew there was no easy way out. He would soon be forced to accept that he had to keep their secrets – momentous secrets that could mean life or death for millions on both of their worlds.

Soval looked her way and she glared at him. He should have prevented this. He knew that Trip had been unwell, yet he allowed the others to place her mate in this impossible position.

Discreetly glancing at Trip, T'Pol fought to conceal her concern for his welfare. Her people were asking Trip to trust them even though they freely admitted that they themselves did not know whom they could trust. He was being pulled in so many different directions: love vs. loyalty, duty vs. honor, the good of the many vs. the obligation to the few. This situation was quickly becoming untenable.

Suddenly, she felt Trip's foot tap against hers. He did not make eye contact, but the message he sent was clear: _Don't worry. I'm all right_.

Placing both forearms on the table, Trip leaned forward. When he spoke there was resignation in his voice. "It's pretty plain that you got me down here for a reason. Why don't you just tell me what you want me to do?"

Vaaris produced another data disk; this one undamaged. "This contains the information we were able to recover. We want you to give it to Admiral Gardner and Admiral Uhlani." Vaaris reached over to the next table and handed the data disk to Soval. Soval, in turn, held it out to Trip.

Trip wavered as he stared at the data disk in Soval's hand. Finally he reached across in front of T'Pol and took it. "How am I supposed to explain this? They're gonna want to know where I got it."

"We have considered that." Vaaris leaned back in his chair and appeared to study Trip. "We suggest that you tell the admirals that the data disk was recovered from the body of the man who tried to kill you."

Trip shook his head. "That won't work. I already told Captain Archer that I didn't see the guy who attacked me…didn't know anything about him. They're not gonna believe that I shut my eyes while I went through his pockets."

"Major?" Vaaris called over his shoulder to the security officer still at his station on one side of the door. "What would you recommend?"

If possible, Luvan's back became even straighter. Fixing his eyes on Trip, he said without a moment of hesitation, "I suggest you tell the admirals that the data disk was found on the body of your assailant, and, after receiving clearance from the Security Ministry, I passed it along to you this morning. Tell them that I informed you that your assailant was an Orion mercenary who was probably working for the Romulans."

Judging by the frown on his face, Trip wasn't too happy with Luvan's suggestion. "Why not tell them that the guy who jumped me was a Romulan and be done with it?"

"That should be obvious, Commander," Luvan replied. "They might want to see the body."

"Tell them the body was destroyed."

Luvan gave a subtle shake of the head. "If you acknowledge that you came into close contact with a Romulan, they will never give you any peace. When questioning fails, they may want to use drugs or some other means to try and recover your memories. It is too great a risk."

Trip held Luvan's gaze for a moment and then turned back to Vaaris. "You want me to lie? I thought you people were above that."

"I want you to do what has to be done to keep the people of Vulcan and Earth from falling victim to a ruthless and belligerent enemy. There is no logic in revealing information which could divide our peoples and make us even more vulnerable to a Romulan attack.

Trip looked down at the data disk as he turned it around in his hand. Pursing his lips, he glanced up and caught Major Luvan's eye. "An Orion?" he asked tightly. "Doesn't that sound a little far-fetched?"

"On the contrary, my suggestion is quite plausible. The Orions are known to have had dealings with the Romulans. They are not overly intelligent, they have no scruples, and they are careless when it comes to protecting classified information."

"And this Orion flunky just happened to have a disk containing the Romulans' top secret plans for Vulcan."

"It is common knowledge that Orions steal."

"Right."

"If my proposal does not please you, Commander, perhaps you can think of a better explanation. I know you have a fertile imagination."

Snorting quietly, Trip lowered his head again. "I guess you've got me backed into a corner. The thing that really concerns me is that lies have a way of comin' back to haunt you."

Unphased by Trip's concerns, T'Pau straightened her shoulders and said, "We will deal with that situation if and when it arises, Commander. To give credence to your story, we will inform the other members of your delegation that Minister Speth was killed last night by an Orion assassin."

"And you think Starfleet will buy that?"

"It is a reasonable explanation. Speth was, in fact, investigating ties between the Orion Syndicate and the Romulan Empire. For all we know, it could have been one of the reasons he was killed."

Trip looked at T'Pol. "What do you think?"

T'Pol knew that the other Vulcans were watching her closely. A great deal was at stake here. "Admiral Gardner still does not believe that the Romulans pose a significant threat to Earth. For that reason and for countless others, Starfleet must have this information, but not at the risk of compromising the Vulcan government." She knew how Trip felt about lying to Archer and the others. If only she could think of a viable alternative. But for now, she could see no other way out of their dilemma. "Major Luvan's suggestion does have merit. You were on the Romulan drone ship. You were also responsible in part for preventing the Orion women from taking control of _Enterprise_. It is credible that both species might feel justified in putting an end to your life."

Trip sighed wearily and scrubbed a hand over his face. "What about the other assassination attempts?" he asked T'Pau. "Are you gonna keep those a secret, too?"

"Starfleet does not need to know about the attacks that failed," T'Pau replied. "If that information became known, it might call into question the stability of our government."

"And what if they think this disk is a fake?"

"I assure you, Commander, that the data you hold in your hand has not been altered by us in any way. If it is challenged, you must somehow convince Starfleet of its authenticity. It is vital that they understand the magnitude of the threat we face." T'Pau looked searchingly at Tucker. "Will you help us?"

Trip slipped the data disk into a pocket. "I'll do what I can." He lifted his head and looked squarely at T'Pau. "Is there anything else?" He pressed his lips firmly together and waited.

T'Pau's face softened. "We realize that we have placed you in a difficult position, Commander. Be assured that Vulcan is in your debt."

When T'Pau pushed her chair back and rose, Trip got to his feet. "If there is nothing else, we will leave you," T'Pau said. "We have a great deal of work to do yet before the meeting later this morning."

"We have to begin sifting through the information Speth had collected," Vaaris said as he got to his feet. "It is imperative that we identify and detain the infiltrators and sympathizers as quickly as possible. Every day they are allowed to remain among us increases the risk to our people."

Glancing down at T'Pol, Trip said, "I doubt that we'll be able to get back to sleep. T'Pol and I would be glad to lend a hand, if you can use the help."

"Your offer is most generous," Vaaris replied, "but it would not be wise for your colleagues to find your rooms empty when they go to wake you. They will want to know where you have been."

"The guard at the main desk saw us leave," T'Pol pointed out. "It will hardly be a secret."

Soval got to his feet. "If you are questioned about your late night departure, tell your superiors to see me. I will think of something. Major Luvan will see that you are returned to the embassy safely."

Then much to everyone's surprise, Soval extended his hand to Trip. Stunned by the gesture, Trip stared at Soval's hand for a few seconds before taking it.

"Thank you, Commander," Soval said sincerely. "The time is fast approaching when we will all have to learn to trust one another. The Romulans will not be patient for much longer, and then our people, our world, our very way of life could be in great peril."

"They'll have to get through us first." The determined look on Trip's face made it clear that this was a pledge, not merely an idle boast.

"Feel free to call on me at any time, Mr. Tucker. I know how hard this has been for you."

"Thanks, Soval. I'll do that."

Trip and T'Pol watched in silence as T'Pau, Vaaris and Soval filed out of the room. Komas murmured something to Luvan and then followed along behind them.

As T'Pol worked to free her mind of anxiety, she took in her husband's tense features. They needed some time alone, even if it was only for a few minutes.

"Will you wait outside, Major?" she asked in a carefully controlled voice.

With a quick nod of the head, Luvan replied, "I will see that no one enters."

Trip stood with his hands on his hips, staring down at the table in front of him.

"Trip, are you all right?"

Nervously, he raked the fingers of one hand through his hair. "Ask me that question in a couple of days," he murmured. "Maybe I'll have an answer by then." He looked at T'Pol when she laid her hand gently on his arm. "Everything's happenin' so fast. I'm havin' a hard time keepin' up."

"That is understandable."

Trip threw his right arm out to the side and then let it slap against his thigh. "I just got done tellin' the captain that he could trust me…that I wouldn't let him down. Now I'm keepin' secrets right and left. I guess that makes me a hypocrite, doesn't it?"

"That is not true. You were given very little choice, Trip."

He dropped his eyes. "If the captain ever finds out…"

"We must do all we can to ensure that he and the others never find out about the Romulans."

Trip opened his arms and T'Pol stepped into his embrace. "This is a hell of a time to start a life together," he murmured into her ear.

T'Pol understood her mate's apprehensions. Surak had taught that change was the essential process of all existence, but Trip was right. Things were changing too rapidly. They were losing control over their own lives. Outside forces were pushing both of them into deep, murky waters where they would be forced to either sink – taking who knew how many others with them – or swim.

T'Pol tried to screen her unsettled thoughts from Trip, but he knew her too well. Nuzzling her hair, he murmured, "I know there's something botherin' ya, darlin'. Why don't you just tell me what it is?" 

Holding him closer, she buried her face in his shoulder. "It's nothing."

Trip kissed the tip of her ear. "You promised to talk to me. Remember? No more secrets."

T'Pol didn't want to add to the burden he was already carrying, but she knew all too well how persistent he could be. "I was just wondering…"

"Don't stop now," Trip encouraged her. "Keep goin'."

"If Earth is threatened, what will your people do?" T'Pol asked in a hushed voice. "Will they support Vulcan or will they turn against us?"

"I'd like to think that humans would realize how important it is for Earth and Vulcan to support each other," Trip murmured. His hand stroked rhythmically up and down her back.

"But we will become just another alien race that has put Earth in peril."

"Don't sell humans short, T'Pol. We aren't all like those bastards from Terra Prime." He gently kissed her hair. "Try lookin' on the bright side. The Xindi attack splintered Earth into factions. Maybe the Romulans will bring us together again."

"And what if the worst happens and the isolationists seize control of your government? What if I am forced to choose between Vulcan and Earth?"

Trip caught his breath, but his hold on her never weakened. "Let's hope it never comes to that. But if it does…well, we're a part of each other now. When we come to a fork in the road, we'll choose our path and travel it together."

"I am proud to be your wife, Mr. Tucker," T'Pol murmured. She pulled back and laid her hand on his chest, directly over his IDIC medallion. "You asked Torok why your life had been spared. Perhaps this is your answer. I can think of no worthier purpose than to help secure peace for both our worlds."

T'Pol could feel the surge of emotion that coursed through him. She knew that he was still struggling to control his feelings of grief and guilt.

"I'll do everything I can," he whispered huskily. "I owe my grandparents that and a whole lot more. I know how lucky I am to be here…to have you."

Trip suddenly cleared his throat and looked away. His eyes drifted over to the door. "I guess we'd better go."

T'Pol followed his gaze. "I agree. People will be wondering where we are."

Clasping hands, they slowly walked across the room. When they reached the door, they stopped and looked into each other's eyes. With a single glance everything they felt for each other was silently reaffirmed.

"I love you, T'Pol," Trip said in a hushed voice. "I'll love you every second of every day for as long as I live."

Taking her in his arms, Trip leaned forward and brushed his lips softly against hers. T'Pol closed her eyes as his mouth covered hers. As soon as their tongues met, their passion flared white hot. Each subtle movement of their bodies offered a tantalizing promise of the ecstasy that awaited them in nights to come.

For a few precious moments, they existed in a world of their own making, a world free of prejudice, violence and hatred. Unfortunately, all too soon, a noise from the corridor broke the spell, and they reluctantly drew apart. They knew that they couldn't hold the outside world back any longer.

Raising T'Pol's hand to his lips, Trip gently kissed her fingertips. "Are you ready?"

T'Pol nodded.

A split second before the door slid open, their hands parted. Trip followed T'Pol out of the library and immediately motioned for Luvan to follow them. Then, with their eyes focused straight ahead, Commander Tucker and Commander T'Pol walked down the corridor side by side, prepared to face the new day.


End file.
